


The Missing Piece

by Aelia1980



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Crime, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Sick!Jensen, amnesia!Jensen, homeless!Jensen - Freeform, hurt!Jensen, mention of suicidal thoughts and homophobia, mention of violence and rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 59,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia1980/pseuds/Aelia1980
Summary: Jared’s life is good; his family might call him "loser" but he has everything he dreams of: cool friends to hang out with, and chicks to bang whenever he wants to. Jared’s life takes an unexpected turn when his grandma leaves him her old, long abandoned apple farm in Vermont. Because the inheritance is made with the proviso that only Jared can rebuild the farm, he fulfills his grandmother’s wish and moves to the tiny town of River’s End, where everyone but Sam, the owner of the local inn, holds a grudge against Jared’s family. On the night Jared arrives, a homeless man collapses in front of the inn. John, the town vagrant, can’t remember anything of his life prior to when he woke up in a field, only clad with a cloak, and a single, torn and stained page of a mysterious book in its pocket. Even though Jared is repulsed by John’s state and doesn’t want to have anything to do with the tramp, he helps Sam to take care of him. Soon enough, Jared learns that there is a sad, mysterious story and a kind heart beneath all those layers of dirt. Jared and John become friends, and help each other to see the best in themselves. As their friendship strengthens, John begins to fall in love with Jared.
Relationships: Genevieve Cortese/Jared Padalecki, Jared Padalecki/Original Female Character(s), Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 24
Kudos: 70





	The Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t know Jared, Jensen or anyone else mentioned in this story. This is a work of fiction, written for “entertainment” and certainly not to hurt mentioned characters. I just borrowed their names, the tiniest bits of their background and invented so much more. Nothing mentioned in this fiction ever happened. 
> 
> Written for spn_j2_bigbang 2012.
> 
> English is not my first language. While this story is betad, there quite surely are still some mistakes left. Also, I tend to write lots of schmoop/fluff/cuddling, so if that´s not your cup of tea, rather don´t read the fic ;)

**Prologue: Winter 1998**

The winter storm was shaking the old, distorted wooden shutters, and whenever a strong squall hit the old shack, the construction sighed eerily, like it was only one moment away from collapsing like a house of cards. Snow was falling heavily, being blown up and down by the whistling wind, and the piles surrounding the shack were slowly crushing it in their ice cold fist.

Inside, it was barely warmer than outside. The cold and clamminess was creeping through the wooden beams the cabin was built of, and a crisp draft bit the young man’s skin whenever the wind soughed through the chimney. The few damp logs in the open fireplace produced more smoke than warmth, and the clothes the man wore – which essentially was every piece he owned - were tattered and thin and definitely not enough to protect his emaciated body.

The smoke burned the man’s lungs and stung his emerald eyes and he had to cough violently, the poisonous air probably not the best for him after having only recently recovered from a bad case of pneumonia. With slightly trembling, cold fingers, the man rubbed his weak, hurting eyes, his teeth chattering miserably when another icy draft ghosted over his cheeks, the scruffy beard not enough to protect his dry skin.

A part of him was longing to curl up on the thin, moldy mattress, to fall asleep there, and maybe never wake up again, the cold finally pulling him over the edge. But there was work to do. Only when he had finished it would he allow himself to let go and glide into the oblivion he had been dreaming of for years.

With teary eyes, the man stared at the scarred wooden table and the ancient typewriter. He’d gotten it, and some equally old ink ribbons, at a household clearance for one dollar. It was not worth anything, but for him, it was enough. A pack of cheap paper was lying next to it and the flickering flames of two old, rusty petroleum lamps only threw eerie shapes of light and shadow over their surfaces. Other than that, it was dark in the shack, as dark as outside, as dark as inside the young man’s soul.

He couldn’t tell if the annoying moisture that blurred his eyes even worse than normal came from all the smoke, the tiredness, or because of what he was about to do now – put to paper the bad memories he’d force himself to relive. Perhaps he really was a fucking faggot wuss, like  _he_ had called him again and again when  _he_ had beaten the crap out of him? Whatever it was, the man angrily wiped the moisture away before he inserted the first sheet of paper into the typewriter.

Taking a deep breath, the young man laid his fingers on the keys, and, closing his eyes for a second, he began to write the story of his life.

********

A mild breeze was caressing Jared’s heated skin, and the sun, which was shining down on him with full strength, had dried the water droplets on his body even before the young man had hurried back to his sun lounger. There, his best buddy Chad was waiting for him, offering him a cool cocktail.

Grateful, Jared took a deep gulp, happy to taste more alcohol than juice, the tingle it left in his belly loved and welcome. He sat down on his sun lounger, combing this hand through his moist hair and letting his glance sweep over the beach, checking out the chicks that had come here to celebrate New Year’s, just like Jared and Chad.

"What do you think about her?" Jared asked, nodding in the direction of a petite blonde girl with huge breasts and a flat belly, who was probably around his own age.

Appreciatively, Chad checked her out, too, whistling salaciously. "Hot thing." He grinned broadly, emptied his cocktail, and carelessly threw the glass into the sand to join its half dozen brothers and sisters – his and Jared’s proud result of the last hour.

"Yeah she is." As if he was hungry, Jared’s tongue moved over his salty lips, his eyes already stripping her of the bikini that barely managed to cover her huge tits. "Just look at her boobs. Ripe as melons. And my friends here," he wriggled his fingers like he was playing the piano, "are ready to pick them." He laughed lewdly.

"Then let’s hope she wants to be picked up."

"How could any girl refuse me?" Jared asked self-confidently, his tall, firm, muscled body and his dimpled smile speaking for itself.

Without waiting for a reply, the young man got up, hurried over to the blonde chick, and began to chat her up deftly.

***

Natalie, as she was called, was dumb as a doormat, but Jared didn’t care. Her breasts were a wonderful weight in his hands and her tiny body fit well inside his own big shell. With every drag of the joint they shared, she got higher, giggling uncontrollably, losing every last bit of sanity and caution.

That’s how Jared loved them the most; absolutely will-less, so that he could do whatever he wanted to do without the girls minding.

He took a deep gulp of the expensive champagne and offered Natalie a little of the exquisite beverage, yet pouring even more over her breasts and belly. The bubbly liquid sparkled golden on her tanned skin and, with satisfaction, Jared watched this, listening to her idiotic snickers, while lighting himself a new doobie. From next door, he could hear Chad grunting in pleasure and it was clear that his friend was already screwing his conquest of the day.

It was time for Jared to hurry up, too. Sliding the joint between the girl’s lips, Jared started to lick the champagne away from her skin, her giggles dampened by the joint she was still puffing. Only once Natalie was clean did Jared take it back, finishing it quickly; the weed was finally showing the effect he was hoping for. He threw the remains into a glass filled with insipid beer, fished for his condoms, and was finally ready to bonk this chick.

Fourth screw on his fourth day, he thought while he fucked her senseless. Life was good.

**PART ONE: Winter 2005**

**1**

**He**

He looked into the mirror that was filmed over with year old dirt and dust, his nose almost touching it. Green eyes with little dots of gold stared back. Hidden beneath his fair but dirty skin were faint freckles, some of which he could even see if he strained his eyes. His gaunt face was framed with greasy, too long hair, its original color much brighter than the felted strands that were sticking out in all directions. It had been a while since his body had seen water and soap, and his clothes, filthy and tattered, were in an even worse state. He knew he smelled horrible but he didn’t mind; he was used to his own odor now, barely remembering a time when he smelled fresh and clean.

John, they called him, like everyone with no identity was named, but, while he didn’t know much, one thing was clear; John wasn’t his name. It just didn’t feel right and comfortable. When the few people in town who took pity on him, like Sam, who would let him have a shower in her inn once in a while, or dear old Mr. Manners, who gave him occasional jobs, called him that, he barely reacted. It wasn’t him. The name bothered him more than people calling him "Hey, you", "Vagrant", or "Beggar", even though the latter wasn’t true. He had never begged for food or money, as he had always tried to earn the little he needed; well, at least in the years he remembered. What had been before, he did not know.

On a chilly morning in November, three years ago, he had woken up in a farmer’s stubble field somewhere here in Vermont, the cut crop pricking painfully into his back, and his whole body covered with a thin layer of frost. Body aching, freezing and bloody, clad with nothing more than a thick, long, old-fashioned winter cloak, the man could neither remember how he came to be there nor who he was. Panic and confusion had rushed through him in strong currents, and when he had noticed that he couldn’t move or talk, it had gotten even worse. Staring into the ice blue sky, his breath making only little, weak clouds in the cold morning air, he had tried to calm down, to remember, but it was in vain.

He had lain there waiting for death, watching the sun slowly rise, kissing his skin, and slowly chasing a little of the cold away. Crows were cawing, hopping through the field, coming much too close for the man’s liking, and he had closed his eyes, scared that they might peck them out in their search for something edible on the frozen ground.

Eventually, he had found enough strength to move, crawling towards the farmhouse, his weak limbs giving in again and again, and his head hammering with little black dots dancing in front of his eyes. Summoning his last reserves of strength, and fighting for the life he knew nothing about, he had made it after all, collapsing in front of the farmhouse’s kitchen window.

Barely conscious, the man hadn’t noticed much of the uproar he had caused when the farmer’s wife found him, but she was a kind woman, providing first aid, and staying with him until the ambulance brought him to the closest hospital.

For a few days, he had been gliding between life and death; his body had been weakened by severe pneumonia and internal bleeding. The doctors had said it had been a miracle that he had even managed to crawl to the farmhouse.

When he was out of the woods and the doctors had found out that the man had lost his memory, they had given him hope, certain that the amnesia was only temporary, and that, sooner or later, the young man would remember.

He never did. There was just a black hole of nothingness where over 20 years of life should have been. All he had from that time was the old, ancient winter cloak and a sheet ripped out of an unknown book, stains and burns having damaged the paper, more than half of the text not recognizable anymore.

When days had turned into weeks, and the police’s efforts of finding out who he was were in vain, he had finally accepted the fact that he was alone in this world, that no one was looking for him, and that no one cared.

He had retreated into a warm, safe shell he built around himself, hoping to find something other than the emptiness and the knowledge of being nobody.

Once he was released, he had wandered through the land, hoping to find himself and a place where he was welcome – where he could build himself a future. It was a fruitless attempt; wherever he went, he wasn’t welcomed, and people would treat him with contempt.

After countless setbacks, he began to believe it. He was nothing and was meant to be alone.

"Who am I?" the green eyed man whispered now, still staring into the old mirror that hung in the empty house that had been his home for the past several years, the first good thing that had happened to him.

There was no answer, only utter silence and the man’s own breathing.

**Jared**

Faces stern and serious, some still reddened and puffy, the family was assembled in the parlor, sipping on their drinks. The fire in the huge fireplace was dancing and crackling happily, giving off wonderful warmth on that gray, rainy February day the Padaleckis had paid their last respects to their beloved mother, and, for some, grandmother.

A few of them were sitting in the comfortable armchairs, others were either standing or pacing around the room, but what they all shared, apart from the grief for the extraordinary person Rose Padalecki was, was the expectation of whom the woman had favored in her will.

There was a huge fortune to pass on; from money to jewelry, and cars to properties. While none of the Padaleckis were exactly poor, even the kids having already been blessed with respectable trust funds, they were all curious as to who would be the lucky one to own all these riches from now on. Chances were big that most of Rose’s wealth would go to her oldest son, Gerald, heir of the Padalecki Empire, but it also wasn’t a secret that mother and son had had a falling out two years ago about how to run the family business, and, after that, their once so close relationship had never been the same.

Amused, Jared, Gerald’s middle son, watched his family from the corner of his eye, how they were nervously sipping their drinks, throwing calculating glances at each other, hoping that they were the chosen ones, and not their cousins or siblings.

It was ridiculous because none of them needed the money; even without it, his dad and siblings would still be in the Top 100 of the richest people in the US. He honestly didn’t care. Sure, Jared loved bucks – the millions in his account enabling him to live a very comfortable, pleasant life full of women, delicious food, vacations, fun, and parties – but he could live off the interest and shares alone without even so much as working one day of his life. A few more millions in his account wouldn’t change much.

Barely able to suppress a yawn, Jared was looking at his watch. He had loved Grandma Rose, like they all had, but, honestly, he would much rather prefer to be somewhere else; with his best buddies, Chad and Jordan, chatting up girls, or even staying in his posh condo in downtown LA, watching some porn or surfing the net. Here, everyone was overly friendly and false, while in reality, jealousy was the emotion at the top of the list. This wasn’t his world and he didn’t fit in.

Finally, after what seemed like the most boring few hours in the young man’s life, Eric Kripke, the family lawyer, entered the room holding a thick envelope made of high quality paper in his hand. After exchanging some pleasantries - not that they’d already done that after the funeral - Eric cleared his throat and opened the envelope with a sharp paper knife.

The atmosphere in the room shifted within a single moment, everyone - including Jared, he had to admit – staring at the small, bald man expectantly.

" _The last will and testament of Rose Padalecki,_ " Kripke read with a deep, steady voice. " _My fortune will be split into three equal parts, each going to my beloved children_ ." Surprised, his aunt and uncle took in a deep breath, because obviously, fall out or not, they hadn’t expected that they’d get a third of the treasure each.

Like almost everyone in the room, Jared risked a quick look at his dad, but his face was a neutral, unemotional mask, and Jared couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved that he had gotten something at all.

Only listening half-heartedly to Eric, now that the future of Rose’s main fortune was decided, Jared preferred to watch his family instead. He didn’t expect anything from Rose anyways, and it was much more enjoyable to watch the joy on his sister’s face when she inherited a good deal of Grandma’s jewelry, while their cousin Louise, who was the most awful person ever, only received pearl earrings.

There was no surprise when Grandma’s properties in England went to his older brother Jeff, who was running the European branch of the business, but when Jared heard his own name in combination with Rose’s valuable library and Orchard House, Jared was sure he must have misheard Kripke.  _"May you find wisdom and peace here, Jared, and take the farm back to another golden age."_

No, obviously Jared hadn’t misheard, because, within a second, nine pairs of eyes were staring at him, just like Jared was staring at the bald lawyer, mouth half open. For the first time in forever, the young man found himself absolutely dumbstruck, and nothing but a gurgling sound that should have been a surprised "What?!" escaped his lips.

Grandma Rose had left him Orchard House? Him, of all people? What was she thinking? Jared was the most irresponsible of all her grandkids, barely making it through high school, not even going to college, just living to have fun and screw around with girls. Why should she leave him the most significant family possession?

Obviously, Jared wasn’t the only one with these thoughts because, as his family slowly recovered from the shock, his aunt Sarah cried in her high-pitched voice, "Why him?! What has he ever done for Mom?"

"Hey!" Jared jumped up, defending himself. "At least I visited her!" He couldn’t repress the hint of sarcasm dripping from his words, because Aunt Sarah hadn’t bothered to visit her sick mother very often.

She was just about to retort when Kripke cut her, and all the other family members who had been whispering to each other, off. "Actually, Mr. Jared Padalecki’s inheritance is bound to a condition. If I may quote your grandmother here, young sir," he stated before he coughed again. " _It must be you, Jared, and you alone, who rebuilds the farm. If you fail, the property will go to the Vermont Foundation of Flora and Fauna. You have two years_ ."

"Then let them have it right away!" his uncle Steven threw in. "We all know what a good for nothing kid Jared is."

"Hey!" Jared tried to object again, but it got drowned out in the many voices; his whole family now discussing whether Jared was indeed good for nothing, and whether he was even worthy of such an important heritage.

Jared had never had a problem with his lifestyle before. Why should he? He was enjoying life, he was no criminal, and had never gotten into too much trouble. Just because he hadn’t bothered with any kind of higher education and wasn’t working, simply because he had enough money to live two or three lives comfortably, didn’t make him a goof-off.

But as he heard his aunt and uncle, even his cousins, whom he had always gotten on well with, giving their two cents worth, Jared took their words to heart.

This alone was weird, because never before had Jared given a shit about what people said or thought about him. Yet, hearing his family talking about him like that, all snidely, like he was the most stupid and worthless guy on earth, cut like a knife.

Did they really see him like this, or was it just jealousy that made them say such things? Was he really that bad? Wasting away his time and money with girls, parties and booze? Was that him, Jared Padalecki?

All of a sudden, Jared felt uncommonly self-conscious, and he let himself fall back into the soft, yielding armchair, hoping in vain to hide his tall frame there. His frown was changing into a sheepish look, and Jared found himself speechless again, not really knowing what to say to defend himself because, yeah, from their point of view, Jared probably  _was_ good for nothing, wasting all his money on trivial amenities.

It was his sister who stood up for him, like Jared had done so often for her. "Hey!" Megan called. "The person you’re talking about is in this room. What you’re doing is damn impolite! Besides," she took a deep breath, looking intensely at everyone assembled, "I’m quite sure Grandma had her reasons for giving Orchard House to Jared. We all loved and respected her, so you should respect her last will, too. She certainly knew what she was doing." She sounded very convincing, looking severe and even a little intimidating. "Jared deserves the chance to prove himself." She faced her brother with an expectant expression on her face. "Do you want to, Jay?"

Actually, Jared was far from sure if he was able to rebuild Orchard House and the old apple farm, and, most of all, if he wanted to. It would be freezing cold in Vermont, and River’s End, the closest town, was in the middle of nowhere. Besides, Jared had plans for the coming weeks, even months. He and Chad were planning to go surfing in Hawaii in two weeks, and he was not forgetting their tour through South-East Asia scheduled for the spring months. These vacations sounded much more promising than leaving his hometown for some dullsville, where he had nothing to do but renovating a house that probably wasn’t more than a shack by now and tending to old apple trees. The trees probably wouldn’t survive long anyways, because Jared had everything but a green thumb.

He snorted listlessly, but the glance in his uncle’s eyes, some kind of "I told you so" visible in his face, made Jared plaster a broad smile on his lips. "Sure I want to. I will show you all."

It sounded much more confident than Jared actually felt.

***

Chad was on the phone, talking like a waterfall, trying hard to persuade Jared why going to River’s End was not a good idea. His two main arguments were "no fun" and "no women", and Chad repeated them over and over again, and in the end, Jared was just one tiny "yes" away from agreeing.

His best buddy was right. Why should he throw away his comfortable lifestyle for damn apples and a damp, old farmhouse no one had been living in for over fifteen years? No matter what his family would say, Jared didn’t owe anything to anyone, not even to his dear grandma, and he also didn’t have to prove anything to his folks.

Chad’s words of what a cool guy he was were like balm on Jared’s soul, and the self-consciousness of three hours earlier was forgotten. Why should he care what his stupid family was thinking? They didn’t know jack squat about him, and while the things Jared did seemed like nothing in their eyes, he was important to enough people - friends who admired him, and girls who drooled over him.

"Chad." Jared laughed because Chad could babble on and on. "I think you’re right. I..." The ring of the doorbell interrupted Jared, and with a "Hold on a sec" directed at his friend, Jared hurried down the stairs of his penthouse apartment, and looked through the spyhole once he had reached the front door.

He frowned when he saw his dad’s face. What was he doing here? Ever since Jared had moved in here four years ago, his father hadn’t paid him a visit.

"Chad!" Jared finally managed to cut off his best buddy’s rambling. "It’s my old man. I better go, but don’t worry, I’ll tell him that I won’t accept the house." Without waiting for Chad’s reply, Jared disconnected the call, slipping his phone into his back pocket as he opened the front door.

"Dad!" Jared called, an exaggerated smile plastered on his lips. "What a nice surprise! Come in."

Gerald nodded once, heading towards the huge leather sofa that dominated the living area. Without waiting for Jared’s offer, he poured himself a double whiskey, taking a deep gulp before he sat down, facing Jared, his eyes piercing his son.

"I just wanted to say how proud I am of you, Son, that you’re finally taking on responsibility. I don’t have to tell you how important Orchard House is in our family’s history, and your grandmother awarded you a great honor here, Jared. Please don’t fail me."

That was the best opportunity to confess that Jared was indeed planning to fail his dad, but suddenly he didn’t feel that confident anymore. "I, umm," Jared stuttered. Where was the self-confidence he had felt a minute ago? "Don’t know if I can do it."

Gerald’s stare pierced him sternly. "Of course you can. Because you must, Son. You can’t allow some stupid flower trust thing to get the place."

"But, Dad," Jared tried to reason. "I don’t know anything about apples or running a farm. I…"

"You will learn. Just like your great-grandparents learned when they came over from Poland a century ago."

"I’m not sure if I want to," the young man finally admitted, not daring to look at his father’s face.

Eyes glaring furiously, Gerald jumped up from the sofa. "You have to, Jared! You owe it to your family! Without the farm, this here," he shouted as he pointed at random spots in his living-room, "wouldn’t be yours. Everything started with the apples the Padaleckis grew in River’s End."

"If the stupid house is so damn important," Jared asked dryly, "why the hell did no one bother to take care of it and the farm for the last 15 years?!" Of course, Jared knew why. Nonetheless, he had never understood why the family had neglected farm and property when it was such an important part of their history.

Gerald threw his hands up in frustration. "You know the story, Jared. Your grandmother didn’t want to live in Orchard House after your grandfather passed, and we had expanded the company into different branches anyways."

Jared had never really understood his grandma’s reason to neglect the farm. But Jared had never loved anyone like his grandparents had loved each other. Maybe, if you really loved like this, with all your being, you couldn’t keep on living in a place where you had met, had gotten married, and where your kids had been born. "Why does she want it to be resurrected now? By me, of all people?" Jared scratched his head in wonder. "It just doesn’t make any sense, Dad."

His father shrugged. "I don’t know, Son. Maybe she saw potential in you no one else could see. Maybe she wanted to give you the chance to be someone else other than the family loser. Whatever her intentions were, Jared, you have to give it a try. Please."

Jared was torn. In his mind, Chad’s voice was telling him about how much fun they’d have in Hawaii, and at all the parties they could go to in the next few months. But what Jared saw was his dad, who had actually never had asked anything of him, who’d always respected his decisions, no matter how unreasonable they seemed, and who now looked at him pleadingly.

"Please, Jared." The older man sat down on the sofa again. "I was born there. The house is dear to me. And when you were a kid, you loved being there."

That was true. When Jared was little, he and his brother had spent several summers at Orchard House, and the apple pies his grandmother’s housekeeper, Samantha, would make were the best Jared had ever tasted. Besides, he couldn’t deny that it was a lovely place, peaceful and quiet, that the property was valuable and that each and every one in his family had fond memories of Orchard House and River’s End.

"Please, Son," Gerald begged again. "Give it a try. You should be proud that Rose left it to you. She might not have been there for 15 years, but she loved that place. Please..."

"Okay," Jared sighed. "I’ll do it. I don’t know how, but I’ll try."

He found himself being pulled into his father’s arms, something the older man hadn’t done for years.

The pride and love shining in Gerry’s eyes when he let go was enough to give Jared a boost, and he promised to himself that he really would give it a try.

**2**

**JARED**

Jared was painfully reminded of ten years ago, when his parents had had the wonderful idea of sending him to some expensive boarding school in Switzerland.

Like then, his folks were assembled at LAX; his mom with tears in her eyes, his dad babbling something about "upholding the family honor", and Jared himself, wanting to be anywhere but here. But other than then, Jared had a more ambitious aim in mind than getting kicked out of school as soon as possible. He had promised his dad to try and rebuild Orchard House and he intended to do it.

In the five weeks that had passed since Grandma Rose’s will had been read, Jared had developed a so-far-unknown ambition to fulfill her last wish. It had not only surprised Jared but his whole family, who were happy to support Jared with everything he needed. His siblings had spent more time with Jared than usual, something he had surprisingly really enjoyed, his mom had spoiled him with her fantastic cooking and baking, and his dad had told him everything he knew about apple cultivation and about administration, about River’s End and its people.

The latter hadn’t been too pleasant, as most people held a grudge against everyone with the name Padalecki. The orchard had been the pearl and figurehead of the little town, providing jobs, bringing in tourists and fame. When Grandma Rose had left the farm in a mad rush after her husband had died so unexpectedly and the farm was closed down, almost every family was affected, and even the generous pay-offs hadn’t been enough to cool down the people’s anger.

When Gerald and his younger sister Sarah had returned to River’s End a few years back, they were met by animosity, and no one but Samantha Ferris, the owner of the local inn, had been willing to give them help and shelter.

Jared knew the people of River’s End wouldn’t exactly welcome him with open arms, and he doubted that even his money would help to convince the locals to support him in rebuilding the farm. But, like his dad and aunt, Jared at least would be welcomed at Mrs. Ferris’ place.

It was actually where Jared was heading, once he’d finally land at Burlington International Airport, but first he had to survive saying goodbye to his family.

Some hugs, kisses, goodbyes, and waves later, Jared was alone, slowly strolling toward the gate his flight would take off from in half an hour’s time. The area was almost empty - which didn’t surprise Jared at all. No one in their right mind would fly to fucking freezing Vermont in the middle of winter when they could stay in lovely, warm LA.

The young man sat down, choosing one of the seats in the many unoccupied rows, turned on his iphone, and looked at his watch again and again. As much as Jared loved going on vacations or even flying to Vegas, New York, or London spontaneously, he was an uneasy flyer, and waiting at the airport made it even worse.

Slowly, time crept by. The gate filled a little more, but other than that, nothing happened.

Another glance at his watch told Jared that the plane was delayed.

Upset, he got up and demanded to know what was going on. Apologetically, the young woman told Jared that the flight was delayed for an indefinite time due to the horrible weather conditions in Burlington. It might be one or several hours, Jared was told.

She offered Jared to wait in the VIP lounge, something Jared could have done from the beginning. But he preferred waiting with everyone else. He enjoyed watching the normal people, finding a bit of ease in listening to their conversations about problems he knew nothing about.

Still not wanting to go to the lounge, Jared returned to his seat when his eyes fell on a tattered paperback that was lying on another empty row of seats.

Although his grandma had left him her library, Jared was far from a passionate reader. When he was little, he had enjoyed it just fine. The older Jared got though, the less he had read, until eventually, Jared had stopped reading completely. The last book he had bought was the Kamasutra, and nowadays the only thing he skimmed through were porn mags, and even Jared had to admit you couldn’t call that reading.

Now, though, his curiosity was awakened. He didn’t have anything with him but his iphone, and if he really had to wait half a day for his flight to take off, some other activity would be welcomed.

Quickly, Jared moved towards the seat and grabbed the book. No one noticed or seemed to care, and Jared was quite sure that its rightful owner was long gone, anyways. Seeing the book up close now, Jared noticed that it looked even worse than from further away. The cover had dog-ears, the spine had several kinks, and the paper was yellowish, some sheets torn when he thumbed through it quickly. In whole, the book looked like it had seen its best days a long time ago.

_Pieces of Me_ , Jared read. By someone called  _JRA._

"Never heard of it," Jared murmured to himself but that actually wasn’t such a big surprise. He hadn’t heard of Harry Potter before his sister made him go see the movies, so even if the book had won a Pulitzer, Jared would never have heard of it.

While skimming the back of the book, Jared frowned when he read the words "autobiography", "anonymous writer", and "young man’s heartbreaking story."

That didn’t sound like reading material Jared might like. Ever. Why should he burden himself with some stranger’s sad life story? If you could even call it that – the writer had been only 20 years old. Ridiculous. The guy had probably invented it all just to make a bunch of money.

Ready to throw the stupid book into the next bin, Jared moved back to his original place where his backpack was still lying on a seat. When he sat down, though, he noticed that he hadn’t thrown the book away, but was still holding it in his hand.

"Pieces of Me." He read the title aloud. Jared had to admit that he liked the sound of it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad? All the positive reviews quoted on the back, from several nationwide newspapers, couldn’t be mistaken, could they?

A little more curious than before, Jared opened the book. It had been published in 2000, and only now did Jared notice that it was a Morgan’s paperback. His dad owned 49% of the company, and Jeff, who owned the other 51%, was a close friend of theirs.

If Jeff had published the book, it couldn’t be total crap! Jared knew that he chose every book they published with special care and that none were printed without Jeff having read it.

That being enough to convince Jared, he turned over to the page where the story began.

_I was a happy kid. Back then, I wanted to have a job, a house with a white picket fence, a loving wife, two kids, and a dog. Most of all, I wanted to get gray and old._

_Nowadays, I see how naïve I’ve been._

_There’s nothing else I want but oblivion, and the only thing I yearn for is death._

_What does life offer me? Nothing. Just pain, refusal, and hate._

_Why should I fight, if every day is nothing but dark and cold, and the emptiness is slowly devouring me?_

Shuddering, Jared looked up from the little printed words adding up to such heartbreaking sentences. How could someone have these thoughts? Longing for death when life was full of happiness and joy? Sure, Jared had been extremely privileged, but even "normal" people didn’t usually have those thoughts, did they? What had happened to the young man?

Strangely intrigued and enraptured by the man’s fate, Jared continued reading.

**He**

Huddled beneath all the blankets he could find, the man was still freezing so much that his teeth were chattering violently, and not even the fire he had lit with the few remaining logs, was enough to chase the cold away.

Worse than the cold, though, was the hunger nibbling at his insides. Black spots danced in front of his eyes whenever he turned around on the old, creaking bed, scaring him, making him wonder how long he’d remain conscious.

The man couldn’t quite remember when he had eaten the last time. A week ago? Or maybe two? One day, he had run out of his meager supplies, and because the winter had been so severe, with icy winds and heavy snowfalls, the man had been bound to the house; the hunger torturing him worse every day, his already malnourished body getting weaker and weaker.

At first, he had feverishly searched the place for anything edible, even going into the attic, but other than the little teddy bear he had found and taken with him for company, some old children’s clothes, broken furniture and toys, he hadn’t found anything. Having already scoured the whole place for food when he had first discovered the abandoned farmhouse, it had been only a fool’s hope in the first place. Who stored food in the attic anyways?

Eventually, the young man had given up, retreating to the little bedroom that had become his refuge over the past few years, and that now could very well become his tomb. After all, no one knew that he was dwelling here. Sam had asked him, but he had never dared to tell her, scared that she might tell the owners, and that they might chase him away.

Maybe his pride would really kill him now, like she had predicted too often.

It was a weird place, this old farmhouse. Surrounded by an overgrown garden, full of herbs, roses, and other flowers in summer, it was the heart of an equally overgrown orchard of apple trees a few miles outside of River’s End. It was a beautiful, even sort of enchanted place, and he had fallen in love with it the moment he had laid eyes on the knobby trees and the big house with its fading yellow walls.

Some mystery surrounded it, the man was sure of it. Why would someone leave such a property? Something tragic must have happened here; just like something tragic had happened to him. Maybe that was why he felt safe here, because he and the house shared a story that was alike.

He had tried to find out more about this place, but most people had avoided his questions, and in the end, he had given up. All he had learned was that the family who had lived here once was very rich. No longer wanting to live on the land, they had moved on, and the whole town held a grudge against them because a lot of townsfolk had lost their jobs when the farm had closed.

Reaching out his hand, his fingertips touching the teddy bear’s soft fur, the man wondered if the cuddly toy was part of the mystery, too.

Who had it belonged to? What had happened to the kid?

In a way, Teddy was as lonely as he was. As abandoned as he was. No one was looking for it, no one needed it. Just like no one was looking for the green-eyed man.

If he would starve, Teddy would be alone again.

It was a thought that made the young man strangely sad. It was nothing but a stuffed animal, but in the past few days, the little bear had been his companion, even his friend. A glimpse of hope and safety in all the darkness. He couldn’t leave him alone again.

Once more, he turned around, staring out of the window this time. Snowdrifts covered most of the windowsill and ice flowers grew on the greasy pane, but if the man’s weak eyes weren’t mistaken, it had almost stopped snowing.

Having lost all sense of time, he kept his eyes fixed on the little spot of sky he could see, his thoughts flying around wildly. Eventually, the gray was chased away by a little blue, and, finally, a weak ray of sunlight found its way through the pane, tickling and warming his skin.

It made the man smile.

Maybe, if it stayed like this, he could drag himself to town and over to Sam’s.

She’d help him. She always did.

**Jared**

"Sir?" The young stewardess approached Jared. "We’re about to land in Burlington. You have to fasten your seat belt."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Jared murmured absentmindedly. He put the book he’d been reading on the empty seat next to him, and fastened his seat belt.

He couldn’t quite believe that the long, dreaded hours of the flight had gone by so fast, thanks to JRA’s book. The tragic story of the young man had got him hooked very unexpectedly, and Jared had only put it away once to take a leak and grab a bite. Like never before, he had been able to feel the writer’s pain and desperation, and his sad life’s story had touched Jared deeply.

That alone surprised the young man, because so far, he had never really cared about people like that. Sure, Jared cared about his family and his friends, and he had gone to stupid charity events because people expected him to go, being Gerald Padalecki’s son, but he had never really thought about them; about people who were sick or homeless, about people who barely had enough money to pay their rent, or lived off nothing but noodles and soup day in, day out, simply because they couldn’t afford anything else.

Now, Jared had read about someone who had gone through all that and so much more, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about all the fear and pain the guy had had to endure. It was far too much for one living being... no wonder the man was longing for death. Hoping for things to get better after all those blows of fate was probably too much to ask for.

Sighing, Jared looked at the cover for a while before he put the book into his rucksack, hoping that he’d be able to finish it soon.

Maybe there was an unexpected Happy Ending for the guy? If not him, who else deserved it?

***

Although the flight hadn’t bothered Jared as much as usual, it was good to have solid ground under his feet. Back and forth, he paced the floor around baggage reclaim, just to stretch his hurting legs and feel that he was back on Earth, where he belonged.

While Jared was waiting for his several bags to be delivered, his eyes swept over the crowd. His dad had promised that someone would pick him up, and drive him over to River’s End, but as far as Jared could see - and he could see well, having eyes like a hawk and the height advantage that came when you’re 6.4" - there was no one waiting for him.

Jared cursed under his breath. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford a taxi, sure he could, but it would have been so much more convenient to be picked up. Despite his dad’s words to not expect much kindness in River’s End, Jared had hoped that whoever was to drive him would maybe become a friend, and notice that Jared wasn’t a bad guy just because his last name was Padalecki.

After a while, the young man gave up looking for his ride, and began looking for his baggage instead.

Only when Jared had finally picked up his three suitcases and wheeled them over to the exit did he finally spot his driver. Almost hidden by a huge ficus, wearing a dirty, bluish cap, a bearded man was standing in one of the less busy corners of the hall, holding a sign that read "Padlecky". Jared wasn’t sure if the man was some kind of dyslexic or had misspelled his name intentionally, but he decided to ignore it.

He hurried over to the waiting man who only looked up when Jared towered above him. "Hi there." Jared reached out his hand. "I’m Jared Padalecki."

Ignoring Jared’s hand, the man eyeballed him with an appraising look. "Jim Beaver," he introduced himself with a gruff voice before he hurried over to the exit, not even offering Jared help with his luggage.

Jared was taken aback. He knew that this Jim guy wasn’t his servant, but helping would have been just polite, wouldn’t it? Quickly, Jared followed him outside, over to a pick-up truck that had long seen its last days, all rusty and dirty, the bed of the truck snow-filled. He couldn’t help but scrunch his face and only got some mumbling in return, which Jared, luckily, didn’t quite catch.

There was no way he could bring all of his bags in the cab with him. Cursing under his breath, Jared placed them in the bed of the truck, shaking his head in annoyance when he saw his expensive luggage sinking into inches of snow. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jim had brought the truck on purpose, knowing exactly that Jared would need the open truck bed.

As soon as Jared had gotten into his seat, Jim started the car, totally ignoring that he had a passenger at all.

_Well_ , Jared thought, _this will be a fun ride_ .

**

"So, umm," Jared started, after the first half an hour had passed with Jim not even sparing him as much as a glance, "tell me about yourself, Jim. How long have you been living in River’s End?"

For a while, Jim didn’t answer, ignoring Jared as if he were nothing but thin air. Eventually, he grumbled and said, "Listen, I’m doing this as a favor to Sam Ferris, and certainly not to you. You are less to me than the cockroaches in my basement and, if you’d ask me, I think you should get back to where you came from. Most decent people here in River’s End are done with you Padaleckis and, believe me, you won’t find any help here. That’s all I got to say." Each word dripped with venom and cut Jared like a sharp knife, leaving him shocked and speechless.

His dad had warned him but, honestly, Jared hadn’t expected such hostility. Why did these people hate his family so much?

Jared wanted to defend himself, wanted to explain, and make apologies.

He didn’t.

Deep down, he knew it wouldn’t change a bit, and would probably annoy Jim even more. Instead, Jared fixed his eyes on the darkness outside, saw his own shadowy reflection in the pane, and hoped that the remaining time of the ride would pass quickly.

**He**

Having watched the path of the sun over the horizon, every passing hour had given the green-eyed man hope. It meant that the road to the town would finally be cleared, and that, if he just pulled himself together and collected all his remaining strength, he might have a chance to survive.

When twilight finally crept over the land, and the sky was still free of dancing snowflakes, the man did just that.

Carefully, he moved his aching, weak body into an upright position. At first, dizziness washed over him in strong currents, but after he had braced himself and had taken some deep breaths, it slowly got better. He slipped into his ruined shoes, wrapped himself into one of the blankets, and made his way downstairs.

Each step was a fight, and it got so much worse when he was outside.

The little bit of sunshine hadn’t been enough to chase the cruel cold away, and the ice-cold wind from the north cut the man’s raw skin mercilessly. He was surrounded by a sea of snow, some drifts so high that he could only see the treetops in the orchard. The driveway leading to the road had vanished completely, as all the other paths, and he could only guess the direction that would lead him to River’s End.

It would be close to suicide to go any further, even for a strong, healthy man, but staying at the house wasn’t an option either, the latter definitely meaning the man’s death. So, deliberately, he took the first step away from the house, and another, and then another.

It was hard work, with the cold and wetness slowly crawling through his tattered clothes, chilling the man’s haggard body even more. He breathed hard as he almost swam through the snow, and with every step his limbs got heavier and colder.

But, eventually, he couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours, the sky now almost completely dark, he reached the end of the property and the road leading to town. Climbing over the huge mound the snow clearing vehicles had created was another huge effort, but, once that was done, the man could move a little easier.

He allowed himself a few moments of break, catching his breath, but when the cutting wind became just too cold, he started walking again with tentative, wobbly steps that were bringing him closer to his destination.

Several times he stumbled over his own feet because of tiredness, or because of the uneven ground he walked on.

At one point he fell, slipping on an ice-plate covered with snow. The impact took his breath away and, for a while, all he saw was darkness in front of his eyes and all he felt was a sharp pain in his bones. He lay there, fighting for composure, hoping that he’d be strong enough to keep on moving, like when he had woken up in the field so many years ago.

Maybe, if he was lucky, a car would pass by?

But the street remained empty, and when the pain slowly was chased away by the cold seeping through his already wet clothes, the man tried to get up again. At first, he could only crawl, the ice cutting his fingers, but eventually, when the man had left a track of blood droplets and he felt his last strength waning again, he forced himself to get up and stumble along.

And finally, far, far away in the distance, he could see the first lights of River’s End and the prospect of Sam’s warm inn drove him on and on.

**3**

**Jared**

Jared must have fallen asleep sometime during the ride because eventually, he was woken up by the truck brakes squeaking and Jim Beaver’s deep, unfriendly voice announcing that they’d arrived.

Unable to repress a yawn, Jared got out of the truck, and stretched his hurting limbs while Jim was already busy throwing Jared’s bags onto the snow covered pavement, like he couldn’t wait to get rid of the young man’s belongings.

Without saying goodnight and before Jared could even thank him for the lift, the older man hurried back into the warmth of his truck and chased down the road.

Jared sighed, looking around.

It was night and an ice cold, stark wind was biting his sleep warm cheeks, the cold seeping through his too thin clothes at once. A weak moonlight shimmered through the clouds, bathing the land in an almost ethereal light. It looked charming and, had it not been so cold, Jared would have admired the sight for a little longer: wooden houses with thick caps of snow on their roofs, bushes in front gardens almost buried beneath the white, fluffy substance, branches of dark firs cracking beneath the weight of the snow. Frost blooms on the window panes, golden light shining through them, and the smoke rising from the chimneys was just another shade of gray in the darkness, giving the houses a cozy touch – homey little islands in a sea of ice and snow.

Rubbing his bare hands for warmth, Jared turned around. As unfriendly as Jim had been, he thankfully had thrown Jared out right in front of the local inn. While the first floor windows were all dark, a warm light was shimmering through the windows on the ground floor, inviting him in.

Quickly, Jared picked up his luggage, hurried to the inn’s front door and stepped over the threshold.

It was a cozy room, looking much more like a living room than the lounge of a restaurant or bar, and the warmth enveloped the young man at once.

He looked around. There was a big fire dancing in a huge fireplace, and only three other patrons seated in the dining area.

For a while, they watched Jared intensely, like they weren’t sure if he was friend or foe. Then their faces turned into something like disgust and, throwing some bills onto the table, they left simultaneously, wishing the woman behind the bar a good night but completely ignoring Jared.

She looked at him almost as intensely, but there was a little smile on her face. "Look who arrived." The bartender came over in a few big strides. "Little Jared Padalecki. All grown up."

Jared frowned. Should he know this woman? Probably, because she obviously knew him, but, even though he strained his memory, he couldn’t remember.

"It just seems like yesterday that you came running into your grandma’s kitchen, stealing my apple pie. And now look at you! What an impressive man you’ve grown into! And you look so much like your granddad."

As Sam mentioned the apple pie, it finally fell like scales from Jared’s eye. Sam Ferris was Grandma Rose’s cook, the kind woman who’d always slip Jared some treats, the woman who Jared had only known as "Aunty".

Jared couldn’t believe it. His dad had not even hinted it! "Aunty," Jared stammered in surprise, his voice slipping into a warm tone.

She hugged Jared tightly. It felt a little like coming home. Sam even smelled like back then – of flour and apples, of cider and cinnamon.

"Welcome to River’s End," Sam said warmly as she stepped back, looking at Jared again.

"Thank you." Jared smiled broadly. He really felt welcome at the inn. "It’s good to be back."

The woman scrunched her face. "Nah, don’t lie to me. It isn’t. I know you’d much rather be somewhere else and I don’t blame you, but, eventually, it really will be good to be back."

Jared wanted to ask how she knew this, but she just shook her head, curling her hand around his arm, tugging him towards a door that led out of the lounge. "No questions now, young man," Sam said resolutely, leading the way up the stairs. "There will be enough time later or tomorrow, if you’re too tired. First, it’s time for you to settle in, have a hot shower, and get something in your belly other than disgusting plane food."

"It wasn’t that bad but, I admit, I could eat something." At that moment, his belly growled hungrily, underscoring his words. This made them both laugh.

"That’s my biggest room," Sam announced after they’d walked down the hallway to the last door. "It’s not much, compared to what you’re used to, but I hope you’ll feel fine there."

"It’s more than fine," Jared assured Sam after sweeping his eyes quickly over the room. It was true. Sure, the room was simple and a little rustic, but, like the lounge, it was cozy with a fire dancing happily in the fireplace, thick carpets on the floor, and warm colors on the walls.

Sam smiled. "Good. Now, get yourself ready. The sooner you come downstairs, the quicker you’ll be fed."

"Yes, Ma’am." Jared saluted, grinning broadly from cheek to cheek.

**

Freshly showered, Jared entered the lounge less than an hour later, the scent of roasted meat tickling his nose. The dining room was empty except for Sam, who was cleaning already spotless glasses behind the bar.

"Here you are, sweetie. Took you long enough." She smiled kindly. "Sit down wherever you want. Free choice of seats." Jared didn’t miss the hint of bitterness in her voice and felt guilty at once. He had a very good idea why Sam’s inn was suddenly empty on a Friday night, when it should have been buzzing with locals.

Jared chose a little table for two by the windows facing Main Street. Outside, only a few people were hurrying through the cold, and the snow was glowing golden in the street lantern’s light.

"Tuck in." Sam startled Jared as she put a huge plate onto the table, laden with a healthy sized rib-eye steak, some vegetables, and chips.

"Smells delicious." Jared praised the cook before he took the first bite of his steak. "Mmm... tastes even better," he mumbled with his mouth still half full.

Only noticing now how hungry he really was, Jared tucked in like he hadn’t had anything to eat for ages, devouring the food on his plate in what seemed like less than ten minutes. It was quiet between guest and owner, with Jared much too busy chewing and relishing his delicious supper and Sam watching him with satisfaction.

"Mmm, that was glorious," Jared said dreamily as he washed down the last remains of his meal with a huge gulp of his coke.

"Thanks, honey." Sam smiled broadly, obviously very satisfied with her cooking. "Want another one?" she asked, pointing at the empty glass.

"Beer would be good," Jared prompted.

When Sam returned, she was carrying a bottle for each of them.

"So, um," Jared started, playing with his hair self-consciously, "looks like me being here isn’t the best for your business." He knew it wasn’t really his fault but, nonetheless, he couldn’t help feeling guilty and ashamed. Just because Sam was kind to him, the townspeople had cut her business dead.

Sam frowned. "Nah. Don’t see it that way. Not your fault."

Jared shrugged. "I know it isn’t. I didn’t do anything, to Jim or the town. But it’s my family’s fault, and because I came back you have to pay for it."

"Don’t dramatize it, Jared." Sam brushed his argument away. "I’ll survive. And believe me, sooner or later, they’ll come back. I make the best steaks in town; no one can do without it for longer than a few weeks." She laughed falsely and the young man couldn’t help but notice the line of worry on her forehead.

"Why, Sam?" Jared dared to ask again. "What happened after my grandma left?" He looked at the middle aged woman intensely, but when he noticed that she didn’t feel comfortable with it, Jared let his eyes wander around the room and out of the window. Playing with his moist beer label, he kept his eyes fixed on a spot of snow.

"Listen, honey," she sighed, "it’s complicated."

"I bet it is," Jared huffed out frustrated.

"There was a time when your grandparents, all of you Padaleckis actually, were very popular here," she explained with a neutral voice, like a teacher would explain some historic event.

Still looking out onto the empty street, Jared listened attentively. It had started snowing again, little flakes that got denser with every breath he took.

"They employed more than half of the town and they were good people. They treated us right. I really couldn’t have wished for a better boss than your grandma, Jared. Back then, my mom was still alive and she was sick, and sometimes I just had to take care of her... I missed work, more than once. Your grandma... she never said anything. She kept on paying me my wages, and, once or twice, she even came home with me to visit her."

Meanwhile it was snowing so hard that Jared could barely see the street lantern on the other side of the street. As Sam kept on praising his grandmother, Jared believed that he spotted something in the snowstorm; a figure, heavily bent, hooded and cloaked. It stumbled more than it walked, fighting against the heavy squalls, and even though Jared couldn’t see their face, it was clear that the person was at their strength’s end.

"Sam?" Jared cut Sam’s tale off. "Who’s that outside?"

Her glance followed Jared’s, and she looked out of the window intensely. "I’m not sure," Sam said thoughtfully. "Might be John."

"John?"

"Yeah... He’s our vagrant. Haven’t seen him for the whole winter. Actually, I thought he had left town."

Just as Sam had said that, the person stumbled and fell face forward into the fresh snow.

"Dear God!" Sam called anxiously. "We need to get him inside!"

Without hesitation, she jumped up from her chair and hurried towards the door, not caring that she was wearing nothing but a thin blouse.

Jared followed her a little reluctantly. Shouldn’t he call 911 and let the paramedics do their job? He wasn’t really good at helping people, always felt a slight reluctance when it came to the sick, old or disabled. There was a reason why there were qualified people who got paid to help such people so that guys like Jared didn’t have to get their hands dirty.

But, of course, Sam was right. Even if he called the ambulance now, it would take a while for it to arrive and, vagrant or not, they couldn’t leave the poor soul lying on the ice-cold pavement.

Stepping outside, Jared drew in a sharp breath. God, it was so fucking cold! Within a moment, it seemed like all the warmth had drained from his body, the frigid wind biting his skin through his thin clothes, the material already cold like ice against his skin.

He hurried down the street, the few yards feeling like miles.

Without thinking of herself, Sam was already kneeling in the cold snow, touching the man’s face. "John?" Her voice was barely audible against the wind’s angry howl.

The man didn’t react, not even when she carefully shook him

"Jared!" Sam cried. "We have to get him inside. He can’t stay out here much longer!"

Jared shuddered, whether it was because of the cold or the man’s miserable state, he did not know. The clothes the tramp wore were nothing but filthy rags, and the thought of stepping closer and actually touching him was sickening to Jared, especially when the fear of catching some ‘poor people’ disease just by breathing the same polluted air crept into his head.

But there was Sam, not even scrunching her face when she touched the filthy man, looking at Jared urgently. If Sam could do it, he could do it, too, couldn’t he?

Still a little reluctant, Jared knelt down on the other side and, with a face that couldn’t quite hide his disgust and his hands only touching what they had to, he helped Sam prop the man up.

Although it was so cold outside, Jared could smell the vagrant’s unpleasant odor and another shudder ran through his body. The filthy, stinking cloak felt unbelievably dirty beneath his fingers and he could almost feel the bugs crawling over his own skin and nesting in his soft hair. He’d much rather prefer not to be that close to the homeless man. Revulsion washed over Jared as he thought about the tiny creatures that were surely living in the man’s scruffy beard, but even Jared understood that the guy needed their help and not his repulsion.

So, Jared swallowed it down, taking a deep breath to not smell the stink, and, step by step, Sam and he dragged the man towards the inn’s front door.

Eventually, after what had seemed like ages, they stepped back inside, the warmth enveloping them heavenly. Grateful, Jared took in a deep breath of warm, smoky air and helped drag the guy to the closest booth.

"I’m going to call 911," Jared called as he hurried over to his table.

"No, don’t!" Sam’s hand cut through the air in a denying gesture. "John wouldn’t want you to."

"Excuse me?" Jared stared, shaking his own head in disbelief.

"Long story," Sam said. "It can’t be that bad, he was walking just a few minutes ago. All John needs is a warm bath and a meal."

John chose this moment to regain consciousness. "Sam?" His voice trembled with weakness. "That you?".

"Yeah, it’s me, sweetie." Gently, she brushed her thumb over the man’s reddened but unbelievably dirty cheek. "What were you doing outside?"

"Hungry," John admitted under his breath, his teeth now chattering heavily. "So hungry. So cold. Sorry, Sam."

With fascination and a little bit of admiration, Jared listened to Sam’s gentle words and watched her touching the man. It was clear that she neither minded his stomach-churning odor nor touching his dirty skin.

Sam shook her head. "Nothing to be sorry about. We’ll take good care of you." The man’s eyes widened a little and, if Jared wasn’t very much mistaken, John looked a little afraid of him. "That’s Jared," Sam introduced, ignoring Jared’s awkward wave and ‘Hi’. "He’s a family friend. I trust him, and you can, too."

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to have anything to do with the tatty guy, but, nevertheless, Jared couldn’t help but be touched by Sam’s words. After everything that had happened in those 15 years, Sam still thought highly of him and his family.

He looked at John for a little while, and suddenly remembered another man, a homeless like him, being despised, being called "vermin" and "scum". Just a few hours ago, he had read about him, about his feelings whenever someone had met him with such repulsion. Quite unexpectedly, a wave of shame swept over Jared and, once more, he forced himself to bury his disgust.

"Yeah, you can," Jared promised eventually. He still was repulsed by the man’s state, and the steadily growing stink almost took his breath away but he was sure that there was a sad story behind the guy’s homelessness. Besides, he sort of owed it to Sam.

"Thank you, honey." Sam looked at Jared gratefully, like she knew how much effort it had cost him to make this promise. "Please, hurry upstairs to the first room on the right. Run a bath for John, not too hot, though. When that’s done, come back and stay with him. I’ll provide him with some tea and blankets."

That was something he could do, since it involved not touching the man, and, gratefully, Jared hurried out of the room and up the stairs, welcoming the fresh air.

The room Sam had mentioned was much smaller and colder than his own, having not been heated. The bathroom was tiny, just big enough for a bathtub, a small sink, and a toilet and it seemed almost colder than the bedroom.

Jared let the water fill the tub with warm but not too hot water, and added half of the bottle of the wonderfully smelling lavender bath oil, hoping it would be enough to draw the stink out of the man’s skin. Before he went downstairs, he washed his own hands longer than necessary and then switched on the heating in both rooms, hoping that the temperature would rise fast to make it comfortable for John.

Huddled in some blankets, John was now sitting upright, rubbing his hands for warmth. With the hood gone, Jared could see his greasy, too long hair, and his frost bitten, unbelievably skinny face. The most extraordinary green eyes Jared had ever seen were looking at him tiredly. Yet, John still seemed on guard, like he couldn’t believe Sam’s word that the tall man was trustworthy.

The sight touched Jared strangely, and his posture and pitiful state caused a weird knot in his chest, one he couldn’t quite explain. He finally felt his disgust melting away, being replaced by pity, that someone around his own age was living on the street, was neglected and scared, almost seemed like a wild animal caught for a zoo.

"Your bath should be ready in ten," Jared announced as he sat down on the opposite side of the table, not sure what he could say instead. "Should warm you up nicely."

"Thank you," John croaked.

Jared felt a little awkward. He’d never had a conversation with a homeless person before. What was he supposed to say or do now? "I’m sure once you’re all warmed up and get something to eat you’ll feel better." He knew his words were trivial, but before Jared could even feel more awkward, Sam spared him any other comment.

"You can count on it," Sam promised as she stepped out of the kitchen, a huge, steaming mug in her hand.

Sitting down next to John, she offered him the mug. Both watched as John wrapped his bony fingers around the ceramic cup, let the warmth seep through his skin and into his bones and the steam caress his dirty face. After a while, the man took a first tentative sip.

"Good?" Sam asked.

The man only nodded in return, taking a deeper gulp.

"Better?" she asked after a little while.

"Little," the man said quietly. "Still hungry."

"I bet you are." Sam took one of John’s dirty hands in hers, massaging the skin gently. At first, John looked like he wanted to draw back, and Jared could tell that he was feeling uncomfortable, but when Sam didn’t to let go, John started to relax. "Where’ve you been, honey?"

"Here and there," John said evasively. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about his whereabouts and, strangely, Sam didn’t inquire. She just nodded, continuing her gentle massage. "Ran out of food," John explained eventually.

"How long ago?"

John shrugged. "Can’t remember. One, two weeks ago?"

Jared couldn’t hold himself back from staring. God, the guy hadn’t had anything to eat for two weeks? Jared, who was always hungry, probably would not even survive 24 hours without something in his demanding belly.

"I’ll feed you up, honey," Sam promised. "Don’t worry."

"Not worried. I know you’ll take good care of me."

**

"Who is he?" Jared asked, nursing a steaming mug of coffee. They had just put John to bed, his belly filled with soup and bread, his beard and the felted tips of his hair gone.

For a while, Sam didn’t answer, looking thoughtfully into her own steaming beverage, maybe wondering what she could tell her patron. The impression fortified when she opened her lips just to close them with only a sigh escaping.

"No one knows," Sam stated eventually, her voice quieter than usual, almost as if she was telling Jared a secret. "He came to River’s End sometime in spring, three years ago, looking for a job. Said he was called John. Most people weren’t friendly. They don’t have much and don’t want to share the little they have. However, John refused to go. Said he liked it here. Once in a while, he would help Mr. Manners or me, earning enough money to survive. He’s a kind young man, but very shy, very reserved. No surprise, though, with what happened to him."

"What was that?" Curious, Jared looked at the older woman.

"He doesn’t really know. That’s the whole mystery. He woke up in a corn field some years back not knowing how he got there and who he was. Still hasn’t regained one bit of memory, for all I know."

"Memory loss?" Jared gaped in horror. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate; not remembering who he was, his family, his friends – losing his whole identity.

Sam nodded sadly. "That’s why he’s called John. He doesn’t like that name, but I just can’t call him "vagrant" or "tramp", like many others do. The boy needs a proper name."

"And you don’t know where he’s staying?"

"Nah, not really," she claimed, moistening her lips, hesitating a moment. "He might be staying somewhere on your property, Jared. There’s the old hut for the seasonal workers at apple harvest, the sheds, the steward’s cottage, and Orchard House itself, of course. They’re decaying but are probably still good enough to give shelter."

Jared let Sam’s suspicion sink in and noticed that he wouldn’t mind if John had been living on his land. The whole farm was abandoned, nothing more than distorted walls, and if they gave someone like John, who really needed it, shelter, that was fine with Jared. He couldn’t imagine living on the street, not having a roof above his head, and the thought alone made him shudder. "Poor guy," Jared whispered.

"Yeah," Sam agreed thoughtfully. "He’s scared of strangers, Jared. So, um, please be nice to him."

Jared couldn’t help but feel offended. "I am!"

"Honey, don’t deny it," she said gently. "I saw the repulsion in your face. And I don’t really blame you," she added even before Jared could object. "He was in a horrible state. But John’s a human being and he doesn’t need contempt, but rather support and companionship. I hope I didn’t lie when I promised John that he could trust you."

Nodding thoughtfully, Jared let his mind wander back to the past few hours, thinking about the book he had read, thinking about John. Two homeless guys; every day a fight, looking for shelter, for warmth, for food, love and acceptance, and almost never finding it. And then he was thinking about himself; growing up surrounded by riches, for the longest time not even knowing that there were people out there who weren’t that blessed. He wasn’t a mean guy but, Jared had to admit to himself, he wasn’t Mother Teresa either. He didn’t really care about people outside his family and his circle of friends, and had never done anything really  _good_ for anyone . Maybe now, away from LA, as alone as John, it was time; time to jump over his own shadow, time to see beyond tattered clothes and a grimy face.

"You didn’t," Jared promised at last. "I will be nice. In a way," Jared wondered aloud, "John and I, we’re sitting in the same boat. Somehow, we’re both stranded here in River’s End, more or less coincidentally. We’re both strangers, and the townspeople would love to see both of us gone, never to return. And you’re the only one nice to us. That’s enough for me to bond, Auntie."

Jared was surprised to hear his own philosophic, almost wise words, but he meant them. This was his chance: to maybe change a little, to maybe become a better man, and to maybe finally do something  _good_ , something for someone else, not only for himself.

She smiled. "Thank you, honey. You won’t regret it. He’s a good boy. Just like you."

**4**

**He**

Cocooned by warmth and a pleasant smell, he slowly woke up.

He must be dreaming because his bed wasn’t that comfortable, and it never smelled of lavender, but of old, filthy rags. With his eyes still closed, the man stretched out his fingers, feeling for Teddy. He wasn’t there. Instead, he felt the cool and smooth material of freshly laundered linen over several pillows.

_Huh? What is going on here?,_ he wondered, slowly opening his eyes.

Although he was terribly shortsighted, he noticed at once that he wasn’t in his small bedroom, but somewhere completely different. The room he was resting in had a flowery wallpaper, white furniture and a fire place with a few remaining embers glowing in the semi-darkness. Light was shimmering through the drawn curtains and, as the man listened carefully, he could hear snippets of a conversation from somewhere, a female voice that was familiar and a male voice that wasn’t.

He also took heed to his body, sure that he’d find weakness, cold, and hunger.

There was none of it. He was warm, rested, and fed, and, as a plus, he smelled nice.

Tasking his memory, bit by bit, it came back: Pictures of him, cold and hungry, of the sun shining on his face, of dragging himself through ice, snow and wind, and of Sam. She had found him, had taken good care of him, like he had known she would. There had also been someone else; a young man helping her.

At first, he had been scared of the stranger, like he always was. But Sam had promised him that he could trust this man and he believed her. The young guy had a genuine, dimpled smile, kind, warm eyes, and a gentle voice. This had been enough to convince him that the guy felt well-disposed towards him.

Maybe it was him he could hear?

Carefully, the man propped himself up and got out of bed. His naked feet sank into the soft carpet and he padded over to the window, pulling open the curtains.

The heavy blizzard he had fought through was long gone, having buried the town in even more snow. It was day, but thick, gray clouds hid the blue of the sky, and the man was sure, if he opened the window, the same breathtaking cold from last night would hit him.

He didn’t. Instead, he looked around, and found fresh, clean clothes and comfortable looking slippers on one of the armchairs. Quickly, he changed his pajamas - probably a pair of Sam’s late husband’s - for the clothes, before he went into the bathroom. There, he found toothbrush, toothpaste and razor.

Only now, as the man looked at his reflection, did he notice that his scruffy beard was gone and most of his felted hair. Instead, a gaunt face, only covered by a day old stubble, looked back at him. For the first time in a while, he was almost glad that he was nearly blind, because the little he saw was shocking. The rest of his body didn’t look much better, only skin and bones, with his belly sunken in and his ribs sticking out.

He took the toothbrush, brushing his teeth carefully. He couldn’t remember when had been the last time, and it felt good, scrubbing the film away from his teeth, feeling how his disgusting breath was slowly chased away by the fresh scent of mint. Only after minutes did the man rinse out his mouth, finally feeling human again.

Now he was ready to go downstairs.

**

The two people who were sitting at a table near the window looked up when he entered the room.

"John!" Sam cried in joy. "Nice to see you! How’re you doing, honey? Come, join us."

Shyly, he came closer. The other person at the table was indeed the young guy who had helped him, but now, in broad daylight, he felt a little self-conscious again. Sure, he smelled much better now, but that stranger had seen him in his worst state; shivering, and begging for food and shelter. Surely the young guy would despise him.

"Hey, John," the young man said kindly. "You look good. Sleep well?"

He nodded, squinting his eyes, as this helped to see the guy a little better. "Yeah, thank you. How long was I out?"

"Almost 36 hours," Sam said.

"I slept over one day?" he asked surprised.

"That’s okay, honey. You were really tired and needed the rest. Now, let me prepare you some breakfast, huh?" Sam got up, leaving him alone with the other man.

"Do you remember anything about what happened two nights ago?" the stranger asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, not much. Just the basics. I think I was starving," he whispered, not daring to look at the stranger who was listening attentively. "I left my shelter. You found me. Helped me. I think you and Sam... saved my life."

The younger man brushed it away. "Nah, we didn’t. You’d have made it anyways. You’re a tough guy, John." He smiled.

The other man was cute when he smiled and a weird knot grew in his belly when he noticed this.

He was attracted to men. Not that he had ever had sex in the life he remembered, but he never looked at women like this, and they didn’t give him that warm, fuzzy feeling.

He felt himself blushing, and he squinted his eyes a little more before he closed them completely.

"Hey, you okay? Anything wrong with your eyes?" the young man asked worriedly.

He shrugged. He’d never told anyone about his bad eye sight. Probably Mr. Manners or Sam had noticed, but there was no way they could help him. It wasn’t like they had spare glasses lying around. And actually, he had learned to live quite well with his handicap. "It’s nothing."

Jared looked at him like he didn’t believe him. "Sure? You remind me of our old housekeeper, Emma. She used to squint her eyes just like you. Was blind as a bat but always too ashamed to say something," he explained bluntly, obviously not even considering that this might embarrass John.

He started to feel uncomfortable, understanding Emma very well. "No," he denied. "Really, I’m good. Just a little tired." Deftly, he changed the subject to more general grounds. "Emm, you know, I have to admit, I can’t remember your name. What happened is still a little blurred."

"No problem. I’m Jared." Smiling his cute dimpled smile, the young guy reached out his hand.

For a moment, he hesitated but then, he took it. Long fingers curled around his, squeezing his hand. "People call me John," he said, "but, um..."

"It’s okay." Jared cut him short. "Sam told me. You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. She also said you don’t like the name."

Grateful, he nodded. Jared seemed to be a nice guy, and Sam had said that he could trust him, but telling his story... he wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be. "True. It just feels... strange. Not like me."

"What name feels like you?" Jared asked curiously.

It was an interesting question, one he had, of course, thought about again and again. But so far, he hadn’t found a name that felt familiar and right. "Don’t know. Haven’t found it yet."

"I hope you will."

**Jared**

From the corner of his eye, Jared watched how John deliberately chewed every little chunk of meat on his plate, like it might be his last. You probably became like this if you faced starvation every day.

Jared shuddered. He couldn’t help feeling pity.

John probably wouldn’t want it, but it was just there, growing the longer Jared thought about John’s fate. What a miserable life the guy was living; suffering from amnesia, homeless, and lonely. It must be hell. Still, he hadn’t given up and was strong and tough.

As much as Jared pitied John, he admired him even more for exactly these reasons.

"Good?" Sam asked both of them.

"Delicious, as always," Jared praised her, while John just nodded.

When Jared looked more closely, he saw that there were tears shining in the other man ’s eyes.

Sam saw them too. "I’m happy you like it, sweetie. You know, you can stay as long as you want to."

A tear broke free and slipped down the older man’s haggard cheek.

Once more, Jared was strangely touched. Barely prone to tears himself, he didn’t think much about men who cried. Wusses, he called them, and rightly so, Chad always said. Tears were for girls and fags, were Chad ’s not so nice words. But Jared could understand John’s tears. If he were in his stead, almost starving, he’d probably cry too; finally being somewhere safe and warm, having something in his belly again and people who cared enough to not send him away.

"Thank you," John murmured, another tear running down his face. Sam got up to comfort John but Jared shook his head almost imperceptibly, mouthing ‘I’ll do it’.

She looked as surprised as Jared was about his offer, but, nevertheless, she headed towards the kitchen instead, giving the men a little privacy.

Looking really uncomfortable, John hid his teary face in the palms of his boney hands.

"It’s okay." Jared tried to calm him. He wasn’t really good in comforting other people, simply because he barely had to do it, his friendships easy, full of laughter and joy. Regardless, he wanted to do it now; ignoring John or his tears would just feel, and be, wrong.

He squeezed John’s arm. It gave him the creeps when all he could feel was bone. Poor guy. "You know, when I had Sam’s famous apple pie yesterday, I almost cried, too." He exaggerated a little, because of course he hadn’t almost cried, but it was worth it. "It reminded me of my childhood. So, it’s really okay. No need to be ashamed. It’s okay to cry, once in a while." Once again, he squeezed the man’s skinny arm.

"Really?" John sounded like a little kid, vulnerable and insecure.

"Yeah. Sure. You’ve been through a lot of shit, man. It’s only natural that you’re losing it. Anyone would cry in your position. You’re still admirably strong." Warmth and care seeped through Jared’s voice and he was surprised how easy it suddenly was to give a little comfort and be what Sam had asked him to be:  _nice_ .

"You think that?" There was a spark of hope glinting behind the tears in his eyes.

"Yeah. I think that. So um," Jared changed the topic before the atmosphere between them could shift into awkwardness, "how about you finish your supper and we wait till Sam brings us some of her heavenly apple pie, and maybe then you’ll want to tell me about yourself? Or we can watch some TV in my room?"

John hesitated, but eventually, a little smile ghosted over his uncommonly full lips. "Sounds good."

**

With Jared living in the ‘Presidential Suite', as Sam called her biggest room teasingly, he had more space than John and he shoved the shy man in there gently, offering him everything he might need, from a drink to a blanket.

He watched how John curled himself into a tight ball in the corner of the sofa closest to the door, the woolen blanket tightly wrapped around him. He looked unbelievably young and shy, unsure whether he really could trust Jared or if he had to flee any second.

Normally, Chad and he would laugh their asses off about a guy like John, all weird and socially awkward, but with Chad not being there, and with Jared knowing the story behind the hurting man, Jared would never even think about something as mean. Like Sam had said, John deserved to be treated fairly and kindly. He didn’t need ridicule, but support.

"You good?" Jared asked, trying to get the chatter rolling.

John nodded.

"You want to watch some TV?"

The older man shrugged. Okay, not so much a conversation, more a monologue.

"Or do you want to tell me about yourself?"

He shuddered palpably. Obviously, John wasn’t ready to share anything about his life yet.

"That’s okay. Maybe you want me to tell you something about me? So this way you can decide for yourself if I’m a good guy?"

Tentatively, John nodded. Well, at least that was some improvement.

"Right. So you know, my name’s Jared. I’m 24, and I’ve got one brother and one sister." He started with the basics, wondering at the same time if it was insensitive to talk about his family when John didn’t even know if he had one, if his parents or siblings were maybe looking for him desperately. But as Jared continued to talk about his life - skipping the tiny part that he was a rich brat - he noticed that John listened attentively. If it bothered him to be reminded that he had none of what Jared had, he didn’t show it.

When he was finished, John smiled a little, and Jared was really satisfied with himself.

"Why are you here, Jared?" he asked quietly. "In winter, in a town in the middle of nowhere?"

"I could ask you the same, John. Why are you here of all places, when you’re free to go anywhere, and people would probably treat you much nicer in other places."

Once again, the other man shrugged, not answering the question but staring into the fire instead.

"Okay, maybe you’ll tell me later, that’s okay. I’m here because my grandma died and left me her old farm. I’m here to rebuild it." Jared didn’t offer anything else. He doubted that John was superficial, with everything that had happened to him, but he neither wanted to tell him that he was one of the hated Padaleckis, nor that Orchard House was his.

"Nice," John said. "Like it here?"

Now it was Jared who shrugged. "Only arrived two days ago, that’s when we found you. It’s cold and there’s a lot of snow. So actually, I prefer home, so far."

John nodded. He would probably prefer home, too, if he just knew where that was.

"You want to watch some TV now?" Jared asked, sure that it was best to retreat to some safer, easier to handle ground. He didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse than he already did.

"Okay," John said thoughtfully.

*

While they were watching TV, Jared noticed again that John squinted his eyes. Inconspicuously, Jared watched him a little longer, but when nothing changed, and John kept on straining his eyes like that, Jared was sure something was wrong.

During the first commercial, he muted the volume, and looked at the other man. "How bad is it, your eye sight?" Jared asked gently, because he was sure it was rather bad.

The older man looked taken aback. "Emm... I told you, it’s nothing. My eyes are just tired."

"John." Jared sighed in frustration. "Please, be honest with me here. Not seeing well is nothing to be ashamed of."

"What good does it do?" John asked quietly, looking away. "Even if I admit it, you couldn’t help me. It’s not that you can conjure up glasses from nowhere."

"Nah, unfortunately, I lost my witchery when I turned 18." Jared winked. "But I could take you to the closest ophthalmologist and then over to the next optometrist and get some glasses for you."

"I ...," John stuttered, being overwhelmed with the offer. "You can’t possibly... Why would you... I can’t."

Gently, Jared put his hand on John’s blanket covered knee. "Don’t worry about it. My whole life, I was lucky, sort of privileged, John. I wouldn’t mind giving a little something like glasses to someone who needs it, someone like you, who actually deserves it. It’s just glasses, not world domination. Believe me when I tell you, life is so much better and beautiful when you can see well." Jared really wouldn’t mind paying for the glasses. He’d always been generous, not only to his closest friends or his family, but to strangers; paying for rounds for everyone in his favorite club or bar, giving generous tips or donating money to animal shelters. Giving John these glasses would probably be the best investment ever, enabling the man a better life.

"But... I’m nothing... And how could I ever repay you, Jared?" John asked self-consciously.

Jared’s heart hurt for the man, and the shame he felt when he thought about his own first impression of John rose to a new dimension. Narrow-minded people like Jared himself, treating him like scum, were the reason why John thought so low of himself. "You’re much more than nothing, John," Jared objected sincerely. He had learned quickly that the older man was not so much different from him, his brother or his friends; he was a human being with needs and hopes, looking for something in his life like, deep down, they all were. "You’re a good guy. I think you deserve some luck once in a while. And you don’t have to repay me, man. It’s a gift. You don’t repay gifts."

"But...." John tried to object, looking really uncomfortable.

Realizing that he couldn’t convince John to take the glasses for free, Jared offered, "I could do with a helping hand on my grandma’s property." That wasn’t even a lie. There was no way he could get the farm up and running alone. "Does that sound fair?"

John nodded, the thin line of his lips shifting into a soft, little smile.

Jared knew he had offered the right thing. It was not only a good deed but also gave him what he needed, probably as much as John: a companion and an ally.

**He**

Humming softly to the song that was playing on the radio, Jared was driving Sam’s car to the closest mall. He was coming along to pick up the brand new glasses that Jared had bought him two days ago.

In a way, he still couldn’t believe his luck.

Less than one week ago, he had been half-starved and half-frozen, waiting for death, and so weak that he almost didn’t make the few miles to Sam’s inn. Now, he had found a companion, someone who was generous and kind, who payed for his glasses, and by such, gave him a never known quality of life. Soon, his blurred vision and the headaches that came on when he strained his weak eyes would only be a memory.

He could never thank Jared enough for what he’d done.

*

When they arrived at the optometrist, he was all excited and giddy. Not that he really knew how kids felt on Christmas or their birthday, but he was sure it must be like this.

Once the optician gave him his new glasses and he put them onto his nose, a wonderful feeling spread through his body. Suddenly, everything was clear and sharp, each grain of dust visible, and Jared’s broad smile, when he saw his stunning face, was more beautiful than before.

But when Jared had gone over to pay for the glasses and he saw the tiny digits on the cashier, showing him the price of $598, all the joy was suddenly drained from him. How could he ever repay Jared for his generosity? Never once in his life had he owned that much money.

"John? You good?" Jared asked when he came back, putting his credit card and receipt into his wallet.

"Yeah, sure," he lied. He wasn’t sure if Jared was buying it, because he looked at him funny, but he didn’t care. How could he tell him that he was so touched by his gesture but still so worried that he’d never be able to pay Jared’s generosity back?

Jared didn’t ask any further. "Good. So, how about some more shopping? Sam told me you need some clothes and shoes. Her husband’s old rags are definitely not things you can wear forever, John."

Vehemently, he shook his head. No, he couldn’t possibly take anything else from Jared. "I’m fine," he lied again. "I don’t need anything else. The things fit perfectly." Another more obvious lie as the old clothes fitted him far from well.

"John, please," Jared sighed, a pushing tone in his voice. "Let me help you here."

He didn’t know why, but suddenly he was upset, almost angry. "I’m no charity case, Jared!" he yelled, loud enough that some people who passed by turned their heads, looking at the two young men in disapproval. "I’m fine. I don’t need your help!"

Jared shook his head in frustration. "I know you aren’t a charity case, John. I know that you can do very well on your own, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it all those years. But don’t throw away help when people offer it to you. Don’t be so proud and stubborn if they are things that make your life a little easier."

His anger vanished as quickly as it had risen, leaving him self-conscious and ashamed. Even before he could stop it, his eyes were filling with tears. Again. "I’m good." He hid his face, looking away from the other man. "Please, Jared, just take me home."

Jared didn’t object. He looked disappointed, almost sad, like someone had kidnapped his favorite puppy, but he nodded, leading the way outside and back to the car, not speaking a word on the ride home.

It made him feel even worse.

**

He was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, not seeing much but darkness, and listening to nothing else but the all-consuming silence.

He couldn’t stay. A part of him wanted to, because Sam and Jared were kind and friendly, it was warm here, and he was being well fed, but he could never repay their generosity and friendship and, the longer he’d stay, the more difficult it would get.

He knew he couldn’t avoid Sam or Jared forever, would probably see them again in the summer, if he didn’t leave River’s End, something that, for the first time in years, seemed like a good idea. At the moment, though, he just couldn’t face them. How could he look into their caring faces, knowing that nothing he’d ever say or do was enough to pay his debt?

Quietly, he got up, and slipped into the clothes Sam had given him. She had also cleaned and fixed his cloak and blanket, and Jensen hoped it’d be enough to provide him with warmth for the walk home.

He took a piece of paper, scribbling down a message.

Sighing regretfully, he then put the glasses over it. He couldn’t keep them; he never should have accepted them in the first place. It was just too much - too much for someone like him, who wasn’t worth anything.

He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, slipped into his shoes, and sneaked downstairs and out of the house, as swift and silent as a shadow.

**5**

**Jared**

"Jared?" Jared was woken up with Sam’s voice booming through the door and her fist hammering against it.

Grumbling, he turned around and glanced at his alarm clock. Okay, he definitely had overslept, but it wasn’t that he had much to do. Apart from getting friendly with the townspeople, which was a fruitless attempt anyways, and waiting for the snow to slowly melt away so that he could finally set foot onto his property, Jared was sort of unemployed. So he didn’t really get why Sam was making such a racket.

Nevertheless, Jared got up, rubbing the sleep away from his crusted eyes, and unlocked his door.

"John’s gone," Sam greeted him, looking panicked.

"What?!" Slowly, Jared processed what Sam had just told him.

"He must have left sometime in the night," Sam explained sadly, hurrying over the room that had been John’s home for less than a week. "He left a note - and his glasses."

Wordlessly, Jared followed Sam and entered the little bedroom. The bed was made, and all of John’s possessions, even his holey shoes, were gone. Only his new glasses were lying on the tiny desk.

He moved closer.

_I’m sorry,_ Jared read on the note next to them.

Jared sighed. "Shit."

"Did anything happen yesterday, Jared? Did you two fight?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Not really. After we got the glasses, I wanted to get him clothes. He..."

"That was stupid, honey. Lovely, but still stupid," Sam cut him off. "He was affronted, wasn’t  he?"

"Yeah, a little." Self-consciously, Jared sucked in his lower lip. "I didn’t mean to, you know. I just wanted to do something good for him. He needs proper clothes, not the old, worn stuff."

"Oh, Jared." Sam left the room, slowly walking downstairs. "I know you meant well, but John... He doesn’t want your charity, honey. The glasses were already far too much, and then when you offered the clothes... he probably couldn’t bear it any longer."

"But..." Jared tried to defend himself. "I offered him to work for it when I noticed that he’d never accept the glasses without ‘paying me back’, as he called it. It was a good deal, one I would profit much more from than he would, actually. I would even work with someone I like."

Sam laughed joylessly. "And he likes you. Which makes this thing even worse, Jared."

"But, that’s what friends are for, Sam!" Jared tried to reason. "You help each other and give it away freely!"

"Oh honey... I’m not sure if John really does understand the concept of friendship, you know?

Furrowing his brow, Jared didn’t really understand. "What do you mean?" he asked as he sat down at one of the tables.

"I don’t know much about his past," Sam said. "And by this, I mean the time after he woke up with his amnesia and before he came to River’s End - the time he spent in the hospital, wherever that was, and the journey to our town. But John... he’s never experienced much kindness here. It was mostly old Kim Manners and me who helped him, and even though we wanted to give him things, he rarely accepted them. He was always keen on working for it. He didn’t want to be in someone’s debt. Maybe he fears that sooner or later he has to do something in return which he can’t do. I’m actually surprised he stayed this long."

"Nevertheless, you’re sort of freaked out that he’s gone," Jared noted.

"And I’m not the only one," Sam retorted.

It was true. Jared was worried; it even beat the disappointment that John hadn’t accepted his gift in the end. He just hated the thought of John being out there in the cold again, without food and warmth, maybe even without a shelter, and most of all, without people talking to him. "It’s still damn cold outside and he hasn’t got any supplies. His clothes aren’t warm enough, and his eye sight is so horrible without the glasses." He sighed in frustration.

"There’s nothing we can do, honey."

"Sure we can," Jared claimed determinedly. "I can go looking for him."

Sadly, Sam shook her head. "Nah, you can’t. John’s a grown man, Jared. He can come and go as he pleases. It’s his choice, not yours. He’ll come again if he needs help."

"What if he doesn’t?" Jared asked desperately. "What if he is just too proud? Or even worse, what if he leaves River’s End? Who will help him, if not you and me?"

Surprised, Sam looked at the young man. "Who are you and what have you done with Jared?

This made Jared forget his worries for a moment and had him laughing out loud.

Of course Sam was right. This wasn’t him; mother-henning over a man older than him and who he didn’t really know. The old Jared wouldn’t have cared in the first place. But River’s End wasn’t LA and ‘Jared here’ wasn’t ‘Jared there’.

"Why do you want to help John so badly?" Sam looked at Jared questioningly.

Things had changed...  _He_ had changed. First the book, and then John, had broadened his mind, and had given him another look at the world as it really was – a world without the luxury and glamor he had grown up in. "Don’t know." Jared shrugged. "Just... feel sorry for him. It just doesn’t seem fair."

"No, it isn’t," Sam agreed. "Life never is."

**

When Jared was lying in bed that night, thinking it through, he noticed how fair Sam’s question really had been.

What had happened to him?

Not that it was a bad change, Jared noticed, but it was a surprising one... First the interest in that anonymous book and his pity for some author he’d never met, and now his pity for someone who was very real but as much a stranger as the anonymous writer. Caring for someone who wasn’t family or a friend... that just wasn’t like him.

But, just as the book had touched Jared, John had touched him. Deeply. The man had been punished so heavily and he definitely deserved for something good to happen to him at last. Most importantly, Jared had really started to grow fond of the quiet, reserved guy.... The way he had smiled like a little boy on Christmas Eve when he had chosen his glasses, when he had finally worn them for the first time... So beautiful and grateful. So happy about something as mundane as glasses.

Jared wanted to see him smile like that again.

He only hoped that John would come back soon, realizing that life with him and Sam was so much easier and better than being alone.

**He**

The house smelled moldy and seemed colder than ever before when he stumbled over the threshold just as the sun stretched her first faint rays over the snow-covered land. With heavily chattering teeth, he hurried upstairs and into the small bedroom he had called his home over the past few years.

Nothing had changed there. The bed was made, Teddy’s face looking out from beneath the cover and the grate was nothing but a heap of gray, smelly ashes.

He stripped of the wet shoes and socks, grateful for the warm woolen ones Sam had given him, and slid beneath the covers. Drawing Teddy against his chest, he soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

**

His hungrily growling belly woke him up in the late afternoon. Listening to its protesting sounds, he already regretted having left Sam’s inn without saying goodbye, without saying thank you, and, most of all, without any provisions.

Maybe Jared had been right. Maybe, for once, he should have buried his pride for his own sake, accepting the help he and Sam had so willingly and graciously offered. If he had stayed, he would be enjoying a slice of Sam’s delicious apple pie right now, watching some TV with Jared; really watching it, thanks to the glasses. He would be surrounded by warmth and companions.

These thoughts didn’t make it any easier, quite the contrary.

He shuddered. If it was because he suddenly felt the loss or the cold, he couldn’t tell. But the latter would get worse in the night, and other than his belly, that had filled a little thanks to Sam coddling him up, the old basket next to the fireplace hadn’t miraculously filled.

In the course of the past three years, he had burned almost everything flammable he could put his hands on; wood from outside or broken furniture he had found in the house. Still, there must be something else he could burn. Intently, he let his mind’s eye wander over the property and through the house, from cellar to attic.

Attic. Yes, that was it. He remembered a heap of broken furniture he had stumbled over up there when he had been looking for food a while ago, only to find Teddy instead.

It was almost dark, but he had a working flashlight, and, as he didn’t see well anyways, this was all he needed. Quickly, he slipped back into his still moist shoes, threw a blanket around him and left the room, the glowing circle of the flashlight guiding his way to the attic.

*

If possible, it was even colder up there. The roof was probably leaking in some places, and one of the panes of the small, round window was broken, causing the wind to whistle creepily through the dusty room, the blanket not enough to protect him.

With one sweep of the light, he noticed that there was more than enough wooden items to burn; broken chairs and stools, an old rocking horse without its head, and several empty drawers.

He took the first broken piece within reach and carried it downstairs. He had an ax in his room; it was blunt but it would still be strong enough to cut the wood into two.

Up and down the man went, and he even started to warm up from the exertion, until eventually, not only his little room, but a part of the hallway, was full with useless, broken furniture. It’d be enough to warm him for a couple of days.

Ready to light a fire when he stepped back into his room, he only now remembered that he had not only forgotten the blanket upstairs but had also spotted a box of old comics. He couldn’t use them for reading, that was just too strenuous for his weak eyes, but the old, dry paper would be perfect as kindling.

Less than five minutes later, he was back, sweating even more, the huge box having been a much heavier weight than anticipated.

He lighted one of his few remaining candles before he ripped the first comic into smaller pieces, putting them and some of the smaller wooden pieces into the grate. The paper caught fire at once and, luckily, the old chair leg didn’t need any invitation either.

Smiling satisfied, the man watched how the fire slowly devoured paper and wood, giving off not only a little warmth but also some additional light. He fed the fire with a little more wood before he slipped back into the bed, taking the box with him.

Curiously, he looked through the comic books. Things like that always made him hope that, miraculously, he might remember something from his past, particularly from his childhood.

But nothing happened. All he found were issue after issue of comics he had never heard of before and, at the bottom of the box, a framed photo.

He looked at it more closely. While the house had still been fully furnished, no pictures or photographs had adorned the walls. Would he finally get a glimpse of the family who had filled this place with life so many years ago?

When he had first settled here, he had asked around about the owners. Bitterly, Mr. Manners had told him that they were unbelievably rich, and had abandoned the property and town years ago because they didn’t need or want it any longer. If the old man was to be believed, they’d more or less ruined most of the townspeople with their departure. Hardly anyone had ever forgiven them for what they’d done. Mr. Manners had also mentioned a name, but he couldn’t remember it, it was just too foreign and unusual.

Now, he held the photo of the family, who had brought the town to its doom and had given him a refuge by doing so, in his hand. There were two elderly people, probably around their sixties, a handful of younger grown-ups, and a bunch of kids.

The oldest man, surely the head of the family, looked slightly familiar to him. That couldn’t be, could it? As far as he had understood, his death had been the beginning of the end. But still, there was something that reminded him of someone he knew.

He held the photo to his weak eyes more closely, the spot of the flashlight shining directly on the stranger’s face. Was it his height? Or the uncommonly long, gray mane of hair, reminding him of a crazy professor? Or was it the dimples and the smile?

Dimples... "Holy Shit," he breathed out in surprise. This guy looked like Jared! Like a much older version of him, but still... Definitely.

But no, that just couldn’t be. It would mean that Jared... With his train of thought running wild, he skimmed the kids’ faces: Two girls, four boys, all between three and ten, and one of them... unmistakably Jared.

Trembling hands freed the faded photo from its frame and luckily he found what he hoped he would.  _The Padaleckis_ , someone had tidily written onto the back of the photograph. Yes, that had been the weird name... And then there were countless names written beneath it, one of them being  _Jared_ .

He was dumbstruck. For many reasons. Why had Jared come back to River’s End? Why was Sam so nice towards Jared, when everyone else in town obviously hated the family? And how could someone who was the offspring of a supposedly evil clan be so nice and kind towards him, of all people?

For a while, he just stared at the photo but then, suddenly, it began to dawn on him. Jared had told him that he had inherited his grandma’s property and that he wanted to rebuild it. He had even asked him for help.

"Fuck." He started to panic. Jared would come... He would find him here... Would find out that he had sought refuge here, in his home. What would Jared do to him, if he found him trespassing? His heart beat faster and his chest tightened in fear, or in shame, he didn’t know.

How could he stay under these circumstances? He had fled from Sam’s place because he hadn’t been able to bear the fact that she and Jared had been so kind... And he fled right into the lion’s cage... This was so much worse than accepting old clothes or even new glasses. He had penetrated Jared’s privacy, and no matter how nice Jared had been, he surely would be mad if he ever found out that he had been living here for three years...

He definitely couldn’t stay. It was time to leave River’s End.

**Jared**

A few days passed. Every day Jared went outside, wrapped in the warm winter gear he had bought, he kept on looking for John’s cloaked figure. But the streets, still snow-covered and icy, stayed empty of the man, and the few people who actually were kind enough to talk to Jared, just shook their head in disinterest when he asked them if they’d seen John.

The old Jared surely would have given up - if he ever would have started looking for John in the first place - but the new Jared didn’t even think about it.

One uncommonly sunny afternoon, when the temperatures had climbed a bit higher, Jared took his brand new car on its first trip over to his new property. He hadn’t forgotten Sam’s suspicion that John might have found shelter somewhere on his farm, and while Jared really was curious to see Orchard House after over 15 years, he was hoping for some sign of the young man there, too.

When Jared could finally see the first apple trees - some almost completely buried in snow, others reaching out their bare, gnarled branches into the clear blue sky - a weird feeling spread through him; warmth, in spite of the cold, and excitement, in spite of the actual sad occurrence. In a way, it felt like coming home.

The snow was piled yards high on both sides of the road, and Jared couldn’t really tell where the turn leading up the driveway lay hidden. But when he thought that he might be close, he let his car roll into a halt.

It was still very cold outside, but at least the sun warmed his skin a little, and he almost enjoyed the walk along the road, while looking for the official entrance to his property.

After a couple of yards, Jared noticed something. Tracks in the otherwise untouched snow, leading away from the road and through the orchard, over to the house he could already see in the distance. They weren’t fresh, but rather a few days old.

"John," he murmured, not even thinking that it might be someone else’s tracks, although chances were big enough that the place was a bolthole for all kinds of people, not only John.

Overcoming the heap of snow on the curbside wasn’t easy, not even for a giant like him, and tromping through the snow was no bed of roses, either, but eventually Jared reached the house that was now his.

It looked decayed, neglected and lonely, like Sleeping Beauty in a winter wonderland, but it was still beautiful, and Jared felt a deep bond towards it when he stepped up the front stairs. He peered through the dirty window of the front door, seeing nothing in the hallway. Inside, it looked as forsaken as it did from the outside.

Curious, Jared took in the surroundings, and now noticed that another set of tracks led away from the house, not towards the street but further into the orchard, and over to the forest in the distance. Compared to the tracks Jared had just followed, these were fresh. It had snowed again last night, but the holes the legs had cut weren’t covered with fresh snow; these were probably only a few hours old.

Jared couldn’t tell why, but he felt a little uneasy looking at these tracks leading away and not back. At first though, he didn’t follow them but turned towards the front door, ready to unlock it. He wasn’t even surprised when it opened before he had even pushed in the key, fortifying his impression that someone had been or, still was, living there.

As silently as possible, Jared stepped into the hallway. It was almost as cold as outside, damp and silent and dark as a grave. He threw a quick look into the kitchen and the living-room, but both rooms were empty, though they bore definite signs that someone had been there recently.

On tiptoes, Jared sneaked upstairs, checking one bedroom after the next. The forth was a hit. The smallest room, right in the middle of the hallway, with just one window facing south, had been someone’s shelter. It was a little warmer than the other rooms, there were blankets on the mattress, and some old, broken pieces of furniture were piled up in one corner. Apart from that, it was empty.

Jared stepped into the room and almost at once his eyes fell onto a photo lying on the windowsill. He didn’t need to take a closer look, recognizing it at once for what it was: the old family photograph, taken a few months before his granddad had passed, on July 4th.

Whoever had been living here had probably found it... Had it really been John? Had Sam’s prediction happened? Had John found out that he was the owner of Orchard House and left, scared that he might chase him away anyways?

Jared wasn’t sure, but he was willing to find out. He hurried downstairs and out of the house, over to the other tracks, the ones leading away from the house. Without thinking about it twice, he followed them, ignoring the cutting wind. At least he had to try and find out if it was John... He didn’t want to chase him away, he wanted to give John a chance, a future even, if he wanted to, if he could only overcome his stupid pride.

Soon Jared realized that the tracks didn’t really lead towards the forest but to the steward’s cottage at the other end of the property, and they guided him right to the front door.

Jared listened carefully. Nothing could be heard except nature’s sounds, and the cottage seemed as uninhabited as Orchard House.

Nevertheless, Jared had to check.

The door wasn’t locked and opened with a creak.

It was dark in there, except for a few faint rays of light that seeped through the distorted wooden shutters that protected the windows. Pushing the door completely open for additional light, Jared stepped into the old, dusty living room. He let his eyes sweep over it and soon noticed the bundle of shivering fabric that was lying curled up on an old, moldy sofa.

Whoever it was needed his help, and in a few long strides, Jared had covered the distance, kneeling down next to the shivering man. The heat radiating from him was so strong that Jared could feel it even before he had touched the man’s face. After he had carefully removed the layers of old rags placed over the face to protect it from the cold, Jared noticed that the sick man really was John.

He felt both relief and worry wash over him, but especially the latter when John didn’t react at all to Jared’s panicked words, and just moaned something Jared was sure could only be a feverish dream. The sick man needed medical help as soon as possible, but Jared wasn’t sure how he could ever manage to maneuver John over to his car, so he called Sam and asked for help.

She promised to send it immediately, and now Jared had nothing to do but wait. Which sounded easy, but was horrible because he wanted to help John so much but could do so little. Frantically, Jared looked through the room, finding some old logs next to the grate. It took him a while before he had a fire lit, and then there was so much smoke that it tickled his throat and made him cough, but eventually, warmth seeped into the room and into his skin. Luckily, Jared also found an old, moth-eaten blanket in one of the closets. He shredded some pieces from it and wrapped snowballs in each of them, using them to cool the man’s burning forehead. He also opened up John’s cloak, trying all measures to lower his body temperature.

Not sure how much time had passed, Jared spent it talking to John, pressing fresh snow against his burning face every few minutes. Slowly, day turned into twilight and Jared already feared that Sam might have forgotten them when he heard several voices outside, tromping through the snow like Jared had, cursing the high piles they had to fight to get through.

"Jared? You there?" Sam called when she was close, and even before Jared could call back, she had entered the cottage, with two men following her.

One of them Jared recognized as Jim Beaver, the other he had never seen before.

"Of course, you know Jim," Sam said, "and that’s his nephew, Misha."

While Jim just nodded curtly, Misha beamed at Jared, taking the offered hand and shaking it zealously. The simple friendly gesture made Jared feel a little better, it made him realize that not everyone in River’s End was against him.

"Thanks for coming," Jared said gratefully, looking especially at Jim. "Thanks for helping me."

"Not doing it for you," Jim grumbled. "Doing it for Sam and the poor boy."

Jared nodded and turned to Sam instead, who had already begun to take care of John, by instilling in him a bit of warm tea and some pills to make his temperature drop a little. "He really is burning up." Sam sighed. "Thank God you found him."

"We should take him to the hospital," Misha suggested, looking down at the sick man.

"No!" Jared and Sam called simultaneously. "He hates hospitals," Jared added when he noticed the other man’s confused look. "Bad experiences. He wouldn’t want to unless it’s absolutely necessary. And I hope it isn’t."

"We’ll see. I called Dr. Miller, he’ll be waiting for us at the inn and he can decide. But now," Sam suggested, "let’s get him over there."

Quite carefully, Sam propped the patient up, wrapping him tightly into a blanket she had brought. Then, they put him onto a sort of gurney. It actually was nothing more than a broad wooden board, just long enough for John’s tall frame, but it was enough to ensure a safe transport. With all three men carrying the load, it was easier than Jared had expected it, even though the walk back through the snow was still a bitch; they stumbled more than once, the steadily growing dark not helping.

Eventually, they arrived at the street leading back to town and finally, they could place John in Jared’s car, and even before Sam, Misha and Jim had gotten into theirs, Jared was gone, speeding down the street as fast as the weather conditions allowed.

_Please let him be alrigh_ t, Jared prayed, again and again, until he whispered it to himself, looking at the almost unconscious man who was riding shotgun, hoping, and praying that he’d soon have back the shy, reserved man he’d learned to like.

**He**

There were voices, but they sounded far away – muted, like he was wrapped in a soft, woolen cocoon.

Once in a while, when he managed to lift his heavy eyelids, he could see faces hovering above him, but they were blurred and, even though they seemed familiar, he couldn’t put names to them. The most soothing were the touches he felt occasionally; a hand gently brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead, wiping a cool, wonderfully smelling cloth over his face, fingers feeling for his pulse, and, once in a while, a soft squeeze, somehow assuring him that things would be alright.

He didn’t know where he was, but wherever it was, it was a good place. Warm and safe, where he was welcome, and for the first time in years he felt... loved. Almost every time he woke up, barely able to distinguish dream from reality, someone was there giving him peace and solace.

It was a much better place than where he had been before, in a cold, empty house where he couldn’t stay because... He had forgotten why he couldn’t have stayed, why he had run away despite his head thrumming and his throat aching, but, somehow, he had arrived where he was now, in this heavenly place.

"I think his temperature has dropped a little," a male voice announced before he felt a cool object touching the inside of his ear and a warm hand squeezing his biceps.

Slowly, he tried to open his eyes. It was like the uncountable times before, difficult, like his eyelids were made of concrete and not of skin, and once he had managed to, everything was blurred, the light almost blinding him. Compared to before though, the dimpled face smiling down at him had a name, and in the back of his mind he also knew where he was.

"Jared?" Was that creaking, raw caw really his voice?

"Yeah, man, it’s me. It’s good to have you back."

"What happened?"

If he wasn’t mistaken, a shadow crept over the younger man’s face. "You were sick. Pretty awfully sick. But you’ll be better soon. Promise."

He was too tired to answer, but as he slowly glided back into the oblivion of sleep, a little flame of hope suddenly kindled in his heart.

**6**

**Jared**

For the first time in five days, Jared had finally gotten more than a handful of hours of sleep. It had been much needed, because what had happened had drained him, not only physically but also emotionally.

Together with Sam, he had nursed John; changing sheets, instilling water and meds, cooling his burning body, and just keeping him company.

This had been a life changing experience, taking Jared close to the edge, requiring things of him he never had believed he’d do. Only a few weeks ago, washing another man would have been beneath him; that’s what servants and nurses were for. But when he had met John, something had shifted and changed, and Jared had wanted to do everything possible to make him feel better.

Anxiously, he had waited for the older man’s temperature to drop and, a few hours ago, it had finally happened. For the first time, John’s eyes had been more focused. He had talked a little, and had even recognized Jared.

Dr. Miller, who Sam had called at once, had promised them that John was finally out of the woods.

Now, as Jared was slowly waking up from his long rest, stretching himself even longer than he already was, and snuggling even deeper into the lavender scented pillows, he hoped that John would be up and about soon. Although Jared wasn’t exactly the caring and sharing kind of guy - or had ever been, he had already changed - there were things he wanted to ask John. Not only why he had left the inn in a cloak and dagger manner but, more importantly, why he had wanted to leave town.

Of course, Sam was right. John was a grown up, free to go wherever he wanted, not owing any explanation to his actions, but Jared couldn’t help but think that he had played a part in both decisions. He wanted to let John know that they were good. That there was no need to reject gifts when they were given freely, and that he didn’t mind that John had been staying at Orchard House. At least the abandoned house had fulfilled a good purpose, and Jared was sure not even his grandma would have minded; other than the old Jared, Rose always had had a heart for people less favored than them.

Jared stayed in bed for a while, but eventually, when he couldn’t ignore the smell of freshly brewed coffee any longer, he got up, showered quickly, and headed towards the lounge.

He hesitated for a second as he passed John’s room, wondering whether he should stick his head through the door and see how their patient was doing. In the end, he decided against it. John needed rest and the road to recovery was still long.

**He**

He knew where he was; the wallpaper, the furniture, the scent of the laundry and the room. It all made it clear that he was back in Sam’s inn. He still didn’t know how this had happened but he was sure he’d find out sooner or later, and the hole in his stomach was a much more urgent need to fill than the urge to still his curiosity.

A wave of dizziness washed over him when he tried to sit up, and, frustrated, he sank back into the pillows, waiting a while before attempting it more slowly the second time. Finally, he had propped himself up enough to leave his bed but he had overestimated his strength.

Standing up caused beads of sweat to form on his forehead and, after the first step, his legs got all wobbly.

Stubbornly, he made another small step. Unluckily, it didn’t get better but worse, and after another step, he had to sit down on the fluffy carpet and tried to collect his strength again.

But even a few deep breaths later, he noticed that by no means was he strong enough to get up, let alone walk out of the room and down the stairs. He had to capitulate and overcome his pride, and ask for help if he didn’t want to crawl back, which really wasn’t an option, either.

Sam and Jared would want him to, he told himself. He remembered Jared’s words from back when they bought the glasses. It now seemed years ago, but the younger man had probably been right. He should accept help if he needed it, especially when someone offered it as generously as Sam and Jared did.

He called Jared’s name. At first it was weak and quiet, but then he called it more strongly.

There was no reply, but he didn’t give up.

Repeating his call a bit louder, he heard anxious voices from downstairs. Heavy footsteps hurried upstairs and, eventually, his door was pushed open, Jared almost storming into the room.

"Are you hurt?" Jared called worriedly, dropping onto his knees next to him.

He shook his head. "Nah." His voice still sounded raw. "Just, em..." Now that Jared was here, looking at him so openly, almost gently, he felt the familiar self-consciousness taking a hold of him again.

Thankfully, Jared noticed it, and didn’t push it further. "As long as you aren’t hurt, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you back into bed, huh?"

Jared helped him onto his feet, slowly leading him back to his bed, like he was an old man. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Nah, don’t be. It’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of," Jared declared. "You’ve had a horribly high fever and have been bedridden for five days. It’s okay to be a little weak."

While Jared tucked him in, which felt surprisingly good, he wondered again how he had gotten back to Sam. "What happened, Jared? I can’t remember much."

"Mmm, how about we talk about that later?" Jared suggested. "I think there are some things we should talk about, but now... now it’s not the right time. First, you should get a little better. And get something in your belly," he added when the older man’s stomach grumbled hungrily. "Okay?"

Food sounded better than the truth and whatever else Jared had to talk about. "Okay."

"Good. Let me get you some breakfast."

Jared was almost out of the door when he turned around, smiling fondly at the other man. "I’m happy you’re better. Really happy."

He watched Jared leave, feeling a warmth inside him no fire could cause.

**Jared**

Wordlessly, Jared handed John his glasses. For a long time, the older man just looked at them, gnawing at his lower lip in embarrassment, a sort of awkward silence between them. But then, as he chanced a glance at Jared and saw his encouraging smile, he took them, slipping them onto his nose.

"Why did you leave them?" Jared sat down on the squashy armchair in John’s bedroom. Another day had passed and John was definitely better, with the antibiotics kicking in and Sam’s cooking doing a small miracle of its own. "I get that you left, but the glasses... Man, they’re yours."

"I can never pay you back," John admitted after more moments of awkward silence, his hands playing with the fresh bed linen. "No matter how much I help you with rebuilding the farm, I can never pay for them."

Jared shrugged. "Sure you can. And even if you can’t, John, they were a gift in the first place. You shouldn’t have to pay for them anyways. It’s absolutely okay. Really. Just take them, be happy with them, and shut up about them." He grinned mischievously and John nodded, a little smile even curling his lips.

"Good. So the other thing. Why did you want to leave River’s End? Don’t you like it here anymore? Or does it have something to do with me?" Jared asked without beating around the bush. "I found the old photo. I know you know who I am."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" John asked in return, as curiously as Jared.

"Your truth for my truth," Jared suggested cunningly. When John nodded after a moment of thinking it through, Jared admitted, "Sam told me that you might have found shelter somewhere on my property. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you away, which happened anyways. Other than that... you might know that my family doesn’t have the best of reputations here in town any longer. Apart from Sam and Misha, everyone eyes me suspiciously or treats me like scum. It just... it was nice that you didn’t have any of those prejudices and just treated me normally."

"Yeah," John murmured thoughtfully. "I think I understand. When I’m clean and dressed nicely, people are kinder to me, too. Just because they don’t see what I am."

Jared was as thoughtful as the older man. They were both more than their names, and how they walked through life; more than "the rich brat" or "the vagrant". And both of them were lucky enough to see that in the other. "So, John, your turn now. Why did you want to leave this charming town?" Jared winked, hoping to make it a little easier for him. Just because John had accepted the glasses, didn’t mean that he wasn’t shy and reserved anymore.

"I found out it was yours and I just..." John sighed. "I couldn’t stay. Didn’t want to owe you even more. Thought you’d be mad." His voice grew quieter and quieter with every word until the last ones were barely a whisper.

With disbelief, Jared shook his head, feeling disappointment, even sadness, in his heart. "Like I said; you owe me nothing," he pressed out between thin lips. "I just wish you could have shown more faith in me. But maybe that’s too much to ask." Jared sighed frustratedly.

"I’m sorry, Jared. I’m not good with these things. I never really learned to trust people. And when I found out that the place was yours... I just sort of freaked. Thought you wouldn’t want me there."

"I don’t mind. Really," Jared assured him gently. "I’m glad that the place had a purpose. But," he took a deep breath, looking regretfully, "you know you can’t stay, don’t you? It’s much too cold, and as soon as the road is passable again, I have to start renovating it."

The older man’s face dropped. It was clear that, even though he had known that something like this might happen, he was wondering where he would find shelter now.

"But don’t worry," Jared continued. "If you want, you’ll never have to be homeless again. We’ll work something out; you, Sam, and I."

"I..." John stammered, at a loss for words and obviously deeply moved. "I don’t know what to say... "

"Then say nothing at all. No thanks needed, anyways." Jared brushed it away, feeling a little uncomfortable already.

John still shook his head in disbelief. "Why, Jared? Why are you doing this?"

The younger man smiled. "That’s what friends are for, John."

**He**

"Friend."

He slowly let the word roll off his tongue, saying it again and again, like a mantra.

"Friend."

His thoughts were circling around this one word and what it might mean: being a friend; having a friend. It was overwhelming, occupying him deeply, robbing him of the sleep his body so desperately needed.

Most of all, it was a good feeling. Someone out there cared for him, spent time with him, and had offered him a future and hope.

But he couldn’t help wondering why.

Why would Jared want to be friends with someone like him?

Rich and spoiled, Jared probably had countless buddies who were able to offer him so much more than he could. Why him? Why not Misha, who seemed to be a cool enough guy and didn’t belong to society’s dregs like him? People had called him that again and again, and not even the clean clothes he was wearing now and the nice room he was sleeping in changed this.

He had nothing and he was nothing... Why would Jared want to be friends with nothing?

He had to know. He had to ask him.

Now.

John turned around and looked at the alarm clock. It was not even 10 pm yet.

Certainly, Jared wouldn’t be asleep yet, but could he go to see him this late without any invitation? Would Jared mind? If they really were friends, Jared shouldn’t mind because, as far as he understood friendship, it was about being there for each other.

He got up, slipped into his slippers and bathrobe, and sneaked over to Jared’s room. His fist hovered only inches in front of the door, ready to knock, while he attentively listened for any sounds seeping through the door.

There wasn’t anything.

Maybe, Jared was already asleep?

How could he disturb him now?

He stood there, still like a statue, wondering if he should knock or just let it be.

**Jared**

Reverently, Jared closed the book, staring at the cover, absentmindedly brushing his thumb over it.

Finishing  _Pieces of Me_ had taken him much longer than he had wanted, and now it was done, Jared felt strange. Sad and empty, but, most of all, unsatisfied. The end had confused him because... there simply was no end. The second to last sheet was missing – two pages of almost the entire epilogue – leaving just one word on the last ever page;  _Jensen_ .

Jensen. A word Jared never had heard before, and it sounded weird to his ears as he whispered it into the quiet semi darkness of his room. Jensen. Was it the guy’s name, he wondered?

Yeah, probably, Jared decided. It fitted... an unusual name for an unusual man.

Now that he had read his sad life story, he wondered again what had happened to him. Where was he now? Had he found that missing piece in his life he had written about? Had he been able to build a new future? Or had he given up, losing all his strength and will to live, finally getting what he had been longing for?

Jared didn’t know why, and maybe it really had something to do with that new part of him, but he wanted to find out. Maybe Jeff, who was an old family friend, could tell him more about the author? As the publisher, he of all people should know. A part of Jared was already dreading the answer, was sort of fearing the worst, but he could only let go if he found out about Jensen’s fate.

He’d mail Jeff in the morning, Jared decided, as he put the book on his nightstand and switched the light off. The digits on his alarm clock showed that it wasn’t even 10 pm yet, but the past few days really had taken its toll and he didn’t mind getting some early shut eye.

Just as he curled himself into his favored sleeping position, snuggling deeply into the warm bed, Jared heard a soft scratch at his door.

Pricking his ears, he listened more closely, wondering if some of the other guests - apart from John, two elderly couples who had come to River’s End for a wedding - were about to break into his room, when he heard something again. This time though, it sounded much more like a knock than someone meddling with his lock.

"Yeah?" Jared asked into the darkness.

"Jared? It’s me. John." He heard the older man’s muffled voice stating the obvious. "Can I come in?"

Jared was surprised. Not that he minded, far from it, but he really hadn’t expected John to come over to his bedroom at this time of the day or more, night. What did that mean? "Sure, just give me a moment."

He quickly turned the light back on, and got out of bed. The cool air in the room made him shiver at once and he hurried over to the door, unlocking it.

Self-consciously, John stood in the hallway, stepping from one foot to the other, once more seeming so much younger than he must be. "Come in." Jared underscored it with an inviting gesture.

"Everything okay?" Jared asked once he had closed the door, John awkwardly standing in the middle of his room.

"Yeah. Sure. It’s just, can I ask you something?"

Now, Jared’s curiosity was awakened. What could be so important that someone like John, who was afraid of bothering someone else, came to see him in the middle of the night?

"Sure. You can ask me anything." Jared headed towards the part of the room with the sofa, TV, and fireplace. "But first, let me feed the fire. It’s cold in here, isn’t it?"

John nodded, following Jared like a faithful dog would, and sat down in his preferred corner of the sofa, watching him work.

"So, what is it?" Jared asked as he sat down next to John, taking his eyes away from the fire that greedily devoured the fresh logs, and looking at his companion instead.

"You called me friend."

"Yeah?" Jared wasn’t sure where this was leading to.

"Why, Jared? Why would someone like you want to be friends with someone like me?"

Jared jerked back a little, being utterly surprised by this question. Never before had someone questioned his friendship and, at first, he was dumbstruck, which rarely happened. Only when the question had slowly sunk in did Jared shake his confusion off, and really thought about it.

It was a fair question, especially for someone like John, who had been living in isolation for such a long time, who didn’t have a past, and, until a few days ago, also didn’t have a promising future. For a homeless man like John, it must seem weird that a rich, spoiled brat like Jared would want to be friends with him. If Jared were in John’s shoes, he probably would have questioned it, too.

But it was a hard question, too. Jared had never really thought about friendship. He always had had friends. Sure, many came and went, but some had stayed almost throughout his whole life. He had never wondered why Chad and he were friends. Was it because their dads were friends, too? Or because they had more or less grown up together? Maybe because they had common interests? Even now, as he quickly thought about it, Jared couldn’t tell, and actually for him it wasn’t important. All that was important was that Chad was there.

For John, though, this wouldn’t be enough. It was clear that the question was important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have come over this late at night, and he wouldn’t accept any platitude for an answer. John looked self-conscious, wrapped in the old, ugly brown bathrobe he had inherited from Sam’s late husband, playing absently with a loose thread, but he waited patiently, not shying away.

"Someone like you," Jared started with what seemed the most important to him, trying to take a little of John’s low self-esteem away. "There is nothing wrong with you. You’re a likable guy, and I don’t care that you don’t know anything about your past and that you were homeless, living as a vagrant." He could see the frown in John’s face, a clear sign that he didn’t believe him. "I. Really. Don’t." He repeated deliberately. "You’re a good guy, and probably a much better person than I could ever be."

"I could be a mass murderer." John scrunched up his face.

"Nah, you aren’t. Things like that are checked. You’re certainly no criminal. So, um, like I said, you’re a good guy. Just believe me."

John obviously didn’t, shaking his head. "But still... Why? I don’t have anything to offer you."

Now it was Jared who scrunched up his face. Not that he blamed John, with the way he had been treated mostly, but how could he think something like that? "You have a lot to offer, especially the one thing I need most."

"Help with the house?"

"Nah, doofus. Company. You’re a good companion, and a good listener, with the right sense of humor. It is things like that that make people become friends. Besides, friendship is often based on things you have in common. We both have things in common, more than you think. It really shouldn’t matter that I have a lot of money in my account. So please, don’t let it matter. Just forget it. We’re both here, mainly alone, with only Sam supporting us, and I think we’re both looking for a place in life." What Jared said was quite philosophic for him, but he meanwhile understood that this had been exactly Grandma Rose’s intention when she had given him the farm; giving him an aim, a purpose, other than partying around the world and fucking girls stupid. Jared now realized that that wasn’t really him. Almost three weeks in River’s End without a party and a girl had been enough to teach him that. "We could find it together. It’s my chance as well as yours. And last but not least, John, I really like you. Admire you. You’re so much tougher than you think. I appreciate you. It’s all the right things to base a friendship on."

"But you also pity me." It wasn’t a question. John wasn’t stupid, and Jared wouldn’t insult him with denying it.

"Yeah, I do. But, John," he smiled gently, "pity isn’t a bad thing. I pity a lot of people, for different reasons; my mom, my sister, and my best buddy, Chad, among them. And a lot of times, I pity myself. You should have seen me when I was more or less forced to come to River’s End which, by the way, I really didn’t want to at first. I pity you because your life has been hard and it seems so unfair compared to what my life used to be. But like I said, I admire you for how you’ve managed."

John’s expression was unreadable and Jared suddenly felt weirdly awkward, wondering if he had said the right thing or if he had screwed up royally. But then, a little smile twitched over the older man’s face. "I think I pity you, too."

Jared frowned. Whatever he had expected, this wasn’t it. "What for?"

"Having to rebuild the farm." John grinned broadly, finally shaking his aloofness away. "I’ve been living there for almost three years and, believe me, it’s a lot of work."

Jared couldn’t help but laugh. "Yeah, I bet it is. But I hope I still can count on your help, John."

"Sure you can," he promised. "That’s what friends are for."

**He**

After they had settled where they stood with each other, he had asked Jared about his plans for the farm and they had spent their time making plans - his knowledge of the property helping Jared to make decisions. The more time had passed, the more tired he had gotten and, now as the clock slowly moved closer towards 1 am, he couldn’t suppress a yawn any longer.

"We should call it a day." Jared rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Tomorrow morning, I’ll go back to Orchard House, have a look at the damage there and go fetch your stuff." He had told Jared that he had taken a little pack with his belongings with him and, without hesitation, Jared had offered to retrieve it. Most of the things in there were worthless, but as stupid as it sounded, there was Teddy, and he didn’t want to let him go.

"Yeah, thanks man," he said as he got up from the couch. "So, em, good night."

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Jared was there, right in his personal space, wrapping him into his freakishly long arms, giving him the first hug he could remember. It was strong and warm and it felt oh so good, being pressed against Jared’s taller body, being held like this. For the first few moments, he was so startled that he didn’t really know what to do, but then his arms slipped around Jared’s torso, returning the hug.

"Sleep tight," Jared said quietly before he let go, smiling affectionately, causing a weird tingle in his belly.

Not daring to look his new friend directly in the eyes, scared of what Jared might see there, he peered past his face into the semi-lit part of the room, his eyes sweeping over Jared’s unmade bed and his nightstand.

Without a warning, he was struck by a flash, like lightning. In reflex, he screwed his eyes shut, but it wasn’t gone; it got brighter and brighter until it changed. There was a glimpse of a bearded, grim face, a wooden hut, more like a shack, and the tires of a truck.

As soon as it happened, it was gone, and everything turned black. Stumbling, he felt Jared’s hands curling around his arms, and from far, far away he could hear his friend’s voice, worried, almost panicked.

But he couldn’t answer, his racing heart and the unbearable ache knocking against his skull now almost taking his breath away.

All he could do was concentrate on breathing and on the warm grip around his arms, anchoring him, slowly pulling him back to where he was.

"John? What’s wrong? I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have... I know I’m sometimes much too impulsive and far too touchy-feely for my own good." As if he had burned himself on his cold skin, Jared took his hands away. "Are you good? Are we good?"

"I don’t know," he finally managed to breath out. "It’s not you... I don’t know what happened, but it’s not you."

There was an interplay of relief and worry flitting over Jared’s features. "If it’s not me, what was it then, John?"

He swallowed heavily, moistening his suddenly too dry lips with the tip of his tongue. "I’m not sure. There was a bright light, and I think I saw something... Pictures."

Jared looked at him skeptically. "Pictures?"

"Pictures... I think they were memories, Jared."

**Jared**

Jared was tromping through the snow, the warmth of Sam’s inn calling him home. He barely paid heed to his way, his thoughts preoccupied with the man whose few belongings he was carrying.

After what had happened last night, Jared had insisted on putting John to bed; the man had been trembling palpably, and had been utterly confused. He had done nothing but borne John silent company until he had eventually fallen asleep, too shocked to tell him much more.

For Jared, it had been okay, at least for the moment. Sooner or later, he would ask John about the flashes of memory; sooner or later, he would also ask John to tell him his story. Jared knew the basics, Sam having told him, but of course, there was much more to learn than the rough facts. Now, as their relationship had developed into friendship, Jared hoped he had earned the privilege to hear John’s tale.

**

Softly, Jared knocked on John’s door. Sam had told him that she had seen him for lunch, which had been a very quiet affair. Later, John had retreated to his four walls, not coming down for coffee and pie like he usually did.

Jared wasn’t surprised. So far, he had only scratched the surface that was John’s personality, but he had expected him to seek solitude. Torturing his mind about the memories was the only logical reaction, because John had never had anyone to share his thoughts with. Caring and sharing wasn’t his world yet, and when John had come to see Jared to talk about friendship, it had been a just a little step into the right direction.

"Come in," John called, and when Jared did just that, he found the older man standing in front of one of the windows, staring outside. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, empty except for a few words he had scribbled down.

"Hey man," Jared said quietly. A part of him wanted to do something other than just talking, wanted to touch him, but he didn’t. Awkwardly, Jared stood in the middle of the room, waiting for his friend to turn around. He didn’t. "I brought your stuff."

Still no reaction. Almost like he was petrified, John had his eyes fixed on some point in the winter wonderland outside.

"I’ll just put it down and leave."

Jared did just that, but then, finally, John turned around. His eyes were red-rimmed, a tear still hanging on his glasses. He looked really lost, and Jared felt like crying with him. How must he be feeling? Three years of nothing and then, suddenly, glimpses of a past he couldn’t remember.

It must be confusing as hell.

"Nah, please don’t. I think it’s better if you stay."

Jared smiled. "I think so, too."

He joined John, looking out of the window, too. The kids from next door had built a snowman in their backyard, with a hat on its head and a broken carrot as its nose.

"Made me wonder if I ever built snowmen, Jared. About my family – if I had any siblings. What if they’re looking for me?"

"Maybe we can find out," Jared suggested. "If you want to, I’m sure we can do a bit of research."

The older man shrugged. "Don’t know. Scares me a little, I think. What if we find out something unpleasant?"

Jared nodded. He understood, and he’d never push John. "Hey, if you like, we can build a snowman, too. Do you want to?"

Green eyes sparkling more brilliantly than normal, John nodded zealously. "God, yeah, I’d love too."

It made Jared smile. He could never give John his childhood back, but he could give him a bit of his childhood, now.

**He**

Wrapped up in the warmest clothes they could find, he pressed old, black buttons into the snow, shaping the snowman’s mouth. For over one hour, Jared and he had worked on it, with Sam watching them from the window, providing them with hot coffee and warm cupcakes. Now, it was almost done and he looked at their work of art with satisfaction.

It had been good, doing this, being distracted from his confusing thoughts for a while, and spending time with Jared. With each of his smile, even with every snowball Jared had attacked him with, he had grown fonder of the man, and he couldn’t help being attracted to Jared. There was something in his manner that appealed to him. It was not only his generosity, but the way Jared treated him, so normal but still attentive, like he was like any of his friends, like he was really important to Jared.

A part of him was a little scared where his feelings might lead to, certain that this definitely wasn’t allowed in a friendship, but the way it was now, no harm was done. It was nothing but a little crush on the first man his age that had ever been kind to him. Surely, it was only natural that he reacted like that, especially because Jared was one hell of a good-looking guy, all tall and muscled, all laughter and smiles.

"It’s done," Jared called, tearing him away from his inner ramblings. "Looking really good." He gave him a friendly punch against his shoulder.

"Yeah," John said. And more quietly, he added, "Thank you, Jared."

"You’re welcome, man. It was great. Now, let’s get back inside the warmth."

Throwing a last glance at the snowman, he followed Jared, and was welcome with Sam’s broad smile and another hot mug of coffee.

**

The pack with his few possessions was still lying where Jared had put it down. He had ignored it when he had come back to his room, having opted to have a long, hot bath first, watching a bit of TV afterwards, but now he was ready to sort out his old things.

Most of his possessions he wouldn’t need any longer. Again, Jared had repeated his offer to go shopping with him so that he didn’t have to wear Mr. Ferris’ clothes any longer, and, eventually, he had agreed, now even looking forward to the shopping tour lying ahead.

He sat down onto the fluffy carpet, and opened the bag that was nothing but an old, dirty blanket bound together with a cord. There was his second pair of jeans - as torn as the ones Sam had already burned – socks with holes as big as his big toe, and cheap, faded shirts. There was the blunt knife he had taken from Orchard House’s kitchen, two candles, and the flashlight. And, wrapped into an old, moth eaten but relatively clean sheet, was Teddy.

He took him, pressed him against his chest, and stared sadly at the little heap of trashy things that were his belongings; his past, his life of three years.

Rubbing his eyes, he sniffed. It really was pitiful.

Absentmindedly, he petted the cuddly toy’s fur. The steady motion and the softness against his fingertips gave him a little comfort. Now, in the bright light of the room, he noticed that Teddy needed a wash, too. Other than his other belongings, he wouldn’t throw it away though. Not now, not ever.

He must have missed the knock on the door because suddenly, Jared was hovering above him and it startled him so much that a very girly gasp of shock escaped his lips.

"Sorry, man." Jared laughed. "Didn’t want to..." He cut himself off, staring at the teddy bear instead. "Where did you find it?"

"Teddy?" he asked, not sure if Jared really was talking about the toy. "Up in the attic, in a box. It..." He didn’t finish his sentence when he saw how Jared looked at it, like he’d seen a ghost.

"That’s Mr. Bear." Jared sounded slightly off. "He was mine."

He couldn’t tell why, but as soon as he heard Jared saying this, he felt a weird sadness take hold of him. It was stupid. He knew it was. Teddy was nothing but a toy for kids. He shouldn’t mind giving him back to his rightful owner, especially if it was Jared, who had been so good to him and was a much better companion than Teddy, simply because Jared was real. Nevertheless, parting with Teddy felt very hard. "Then you should have him back," he said with more certainty than he felt.

He hadn’t even noticed that Jared had been sitting down next to him, now gently taking the teddy bear away from him.

"Hello, Mr. Bear," the younger man whispered. "Missed you." In a very affectionate gesture, Jared pressed the teddy against his heart. Who would have thought that cool Jared Padalecki would do something like this? "He used to be my favorite of all my toys. In the summer before my granddad passed, my brother and I had a huge fight. I can’t even remember what it was about. Jeff... he took revenge by taking Mr. Bear away from me, telling me that he had thrown him away. I cried and hit him, I cursed and screamed. I searched the whole house, but I couldn’t find him. I really thought he was gone. I never really forgave Jeff."

Smiling sadly, he nodded. He could understand Jared, now feeling a little like Jared must have felt then. "I found him while I was looking for food in the attic." Now that he had said it aloud, he noticed how stupid and how desperate it must sound, and the look of horror on Jared’s face told him it was like that. "Of course, I didn’t find anything but the teddy and I took it with me. I thought I was dying, Jared. It was so cold and there was so much snow and I hadn’t eaten anything in days and Teddy, sorry, Mr. Bear, he gave me a bit of company. I know it sounds stupid but..."

The terror on Jared’s face was slowly chased away by a little smile. "Then you should have him back, John." With an encouraging look on his face, Jared handed him the toy and, tentatively, his hands curled around the furry torso, brushing Jared’s for a second until he held the bear on his own again.

Still in denial, he shook his head, though inside, he really hoped he could keep him. "He’s yours."

"Nah. He was mine. But, not anymore. He hasn’t been for over 15 years, man. Please, take him. I don’t want you to ever be alone again."

He opened his mouth, only to close it again. A simple thank you wasn’t enough and wouldn’t do the gift justice. He was overwhelmed, and, taking some deep breaths, he fought for his composure. "You sure?" he asked eventually.

"Yeah. I’m sure. Mr. Bear... Teddy... He chose you. You found him again. He’s yours now. I hope he makes you as happy as he made me." Jared smiled mischievously, like the little sassy kid on the photo he had found.

He pressed the bear against his chest before he gently put it on the carpet, pressing Jared against his chest instead. "Thank you, Jay."

"That’s what friends are for," Jared whispered, returning the hug. "Thanks for finding him."

"Thanks for finding me." It was true. Jared had found him, had given him countless things, above all friendship and hope. With Jared by his side, for the first time in forever, he had a future. He still might only be John, and he still didn’t know who he really was, but Jared, here, was a piece of his life he had been missing without ever realizing it.

**Part 2: Summer 2005**

**7**

**Jared**

The sun was burning down on them, heating their sweaty bodies even more, and turning their skin an aggressive shade of pink. They had started work at the crack of dawn, sawing wooden panels for a new tool shed, but not even four strong arms and deft hands were enough to keep the schedule Jared had set himself. They were only humans, after all.

Frustratedly, Jared swiped the perspiration off his forehead when he heard a familiar voice calling in the distance. It was Sam, carrying a basket Jared just hoped was full of food and her delicious cool home-made lemonade. It was way past noon and he hadn’t had anything between his teeth since his early breakfast.

Even before Jared could call his friend, John was sticking his head through the door frame. "Did I hear Sam?" When he spotted her wandering through the high grass, coming closer with every stride, he laughed. "Thank God, I’m starving."

Jared watched John wash his hand in the water basin, before he headed towards the blanket they had spread under the shadowy apple trees. He made himself comfortable, looking at Sam expectantly and rubbing his belly.

It made Jared smile. It was hard to believe that the man, whose face was scattered with countless freckles under the sunburn it sported, and who was healthy and muscled, had been close to starvation only three months ago. And these were only the physical changes John had gone through. In the past few months, he had also learned to trust Jared, had learned to accept help and gifts, friendship and advice.

He had opened up to Jared, had talked to him, and with every passing day, Jared had learned something more about the fascinating person John was, about his past, and his daily fight to survive on the street. In return, John had learned a little more about the past he couldn ’t remember. There had been more glimpses of memories and, while the pictures still didn’t make much sense, it was more than what he had before. Sooner or later, Jared was sure, all the pieces of John’s past would fit together, telling him who he really was.

"Hey, guys." Sam’s call pulled Jared away from his thoughts. "How’s it going?

"Slow," both men moaned at the same time, but they couldn’t help laughing about their simultaneous outburst.

"It’s hard, with just the two of us," Jared admitted sadly. It still bothered him that no one in town was willing to help, and even the workers he had hired from further away hadn’t stayed too long. Not because Jared was an unfair employer - he wasn’t, far from it, paying fair and offering good conditions - but because, sooner or later, someone in town badmouthed about him.

"I know honey." Sam squeezed Jared’s arm gently. "Believe me, I begged Jim to let it go, but... he just can’t."

"Why, Sam?" Jared asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Why does he hate me so much?" He didn’t really expect an answer. It was just the frustration that made him question it again.

Surprisingly though, Sam nodded once and motioned towards the huge blanket where John was sitting, sitting down there, too. She put a Tupperware full of sandwiches, another filled with strawberries and a huge jug of her lemonade onto the blanket, offering both men to tuck in.

"Jim is my friend and, I’m sure, he wouldn’t want me to tell you..."

"Then don’t, Sam." Jared sighed. "I don’t want you two have a fall out and have people hate me even more."

She shook her head. "Nah, I’ve had enough of it and of Jim’s behavior, because what happened is definitely not your fault."

"How can it? I barely know Jim."

"Oh, you know him just well enough. He was Rose’s gardener."

The wheels in Jared’s mind started turning as he searched his memory for his grandma’s gardener. Suddenly, he had it in front of his eyes. An image of a bearded man in his 30s who’d always whistled when he had cut the many roses that bloomed in the garden. "That’s Jim?"

"I see you remember him. Yeah, I know," Sam sighed sadly. "He changed a lot, Jim. Back then, he was a happy, friendly guy."

Leaning closer towards Sam, Jared asked, "What happened?"

"Like I said, he was the gardener here, like his father before him. They loved Orchard House, and Jim... He loved nothing more than tending to the flowers, making them bloom, and taking care of ill apple trees. He really did a lot for the farm, you know. So, when Rose left, he was heartbroken. Not even her very generous compensation was much of a comfort to him. He couldn’t find another job, never having learned anything else than gardening, and he drank a little too much, and gambled most of his money... In the end, his wife left him. One night, Jim came home from a night out and she and the three boys were gone. He hasn’t seen them since, Jared. He was heartbroken and, in his eyes, it’s all your family’s fault."

Jared didn’t know what to say, and he felt strangely self-conscious, not daring to look in Sam’s or John’s eyes. Sure, no one had forced Jim to drink and gamble, but the fact was, it probably would never have come that far if his grandma hadn’t abandoned the farm. She could have employed someone to manage it, but she didn’t. She had closed it down, hadn’t wanted any of her kids to take it over from her, and had ruined Jim and god knows who else.

"How many others like Jim?" Jared asked, sure that Jim was just an example.

"Almost a dozen," Sam whispered. "Some left town and their wives, looking for jobs, and never returned. Some shared Jim’s story."

A warm hand was pressed against the small of his back. It felt unbelievably good, soothing and loving. "It’s not your fault, man." John was rubbing his hand back and forth in a steady motion to calm him down. "Every man is the architect of his own future, Jay. You taught me that. Don’t you blame yourself for what happened. You’re a good guy, Jay."

Jared was touched. What would he do without John? "Thanks, man," he whispered, leaning into John’s touch until his hand was gone.

"Please, guys, don’t tell Jim, or anybody else, that I told you. But maybe now it’ll be a little easier for you to understand. "

Both nodded. Lost in their own thoughts, they ate their sandwiches in silence and, eventually, Sam got up and left. "See you later, guys!" She waved once before she vanished into the shadows of the orchard.

They were still living at the inn. With helping hands so difficult to find, the house still wasn’t in much better shape than three months ago, with only the roof being new and shiny. Jared’s top priority was the orchard anyways.

As soon as the snow had melted away, he had hired a gardener and, with his and John’s help, he had taken stock of the orchard; cutting down ill trees and pruning the healthy ones. After that, the seasonal workers’ house had been rebuilt, and now they were building the shed. Maybe next month they’d finally be able to start on the house.

"Jay? You okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Jared sighed tiredly. "It’s just... You know, I, um..." He didn’t want to insult his friend. John was the best help he could have wished for, but no matter how good and motivated he was, his two hands weren’t enough.

"Hey. I know. We need help. I’m not taking it personal, you should know that."

"Good, because without you, man, I’d be so screwed." He even managed a slightly tortured smile that shifted into something softer, realer, when John pulled him into a quick, one armed hug.

"And I without you."

***

It was almost 10 pm when Jared and John returned to the inn. Like always, when they stepped into the parlor, they were met by cold, disapproving glances, but as soon as they vanished upstairs, the other patrons continued their chatter.

At least Sam had been right, and Jared’s worry that guests might stay away had been in vain. Her inn was far too popular with the townspeople that they had been unable to be without her delicious food for longer than a few weeks. Now they came like they always had, ignoring the fact that public enemy number one and his shady vagrant friend were residing here.

Nowadays, John and he normally had their meals in Sam’s private room, or upstairs in one of their bedrooms, where the two of them watched some TV or played PS2. Today though, the tiredness overpowered the hunger and Jared was longing for nothing more than a long, hot shower to loosen his muscles and his warm bed, the nights being too short anyways.

He said goodnight to his friend in front of John’s door, pulling him into a quick hug, too tired to see the look in John’s eyes, full of love and affection.

Tumbling down the hallway and into his room, he collapsed onto his bed, his eyes falling shut the second his head touched the pillow. Jared couldn’t tell how long he had napped, it might have only been a few minutes, when he was woken up by his cell’s tedious ring - announcing Chad’s call.

Yawning heartily, Jared rubbed his eyes and answered it. He hadn’t talked to his buddy for ages and, honestly, he really wasn’t in the mood to do so now. With all that was going on, Chad’s babbling suddenly seemed shallow and unimportant, but the guy was still his best buddy and deserved better.

Just two minutes later, he regretted it. Barely listening, Jared let Chad’s voice wash over him as he prepared his bath, throwing in an acknowledging ‘yeah’ and ‘umm’ whenever it seemed appropriate.

"So, what do you think, man? Should I pay that bitch to get rid of the baby or..."

What?! Wait! Had Chad just mentioned a baby?

"You got her pregnant?" Jared asked, just to be sure that he had understood his buddy correctly.

"Yeah, I just told you. Party. Drugs. Alcohol. Threesome. The condom tore."

Jared scrunched his face. He couldn’t believe that this had been his life half a year ago, too. Sure, he had never been as extreme as Chad, but he hadn’t exactly been a choirboy either. It made him realize how much he had changed, how much he had settled down, how much his new life, his new friends had helped him find a missing piece of him. "And you want to pay for her abortion?" Jared could hear the disgust dripping from each word.

"Emm, yeah," Chad said slowly, like the question was the most stupid ever. "What’s wrong with that? What should I do instead?"

God. Sometimes, Jared couldn’t believe he was friends with the guy. "Well, how about you take on a little responsibility and support her, let her deliver the baby, and be a dad to him or her."

Chad was stunned, like this was the most stupid suggestion, ever. "What would be the fun of that? And I don’t want a stupid baby! What would I do with a baby? Especially from a chick like her. You should have seen her, JT. I can’t even believe that I fucked her. And now she’s all teary and desperate."

"Wonder why, Chad," Jared said with a pinch of sarcasm. "Really. You should help that poor girl. In some other way than paying for the abortion. That’s just wrong."

"Man, you sound like my mom, if I were stupid enough to tell her. What happened to you?"

_I learned to take responsibility_ , Jared thought, but before he could say it aloud, Chad railed at him.

"Really, dude, I don’t recognize you anymore. All you talk about is that stupid farm and apples. And John!!" he spat out. "It’s John this and John that. You don’t talk about anyone else. Just like when you were dating that Sandy chick." Chad paused, and it sounded like he was taking a deep gulp of some liquid, probably beer or something stronger, which would also explain his drawl. "Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Vermont turned you into a frigging fag, and that you and that John guy have something going. A  _guy_ . Best of all a tramp! Jared, what were you thinking?"

Jared felt like Chad had punched him through the phone. It wasn’t only the insult of being gay, which was ridiculous, because he just loved boobs, but most of all, it was the way he was talking about John, who had proved to be a much better friend than Chad had ever been. "Don’t talk about him like that, Chad." Jared’s voice was as cold as ice and as sharp as a knife. "He’s my friend and a great guy. I’d be lost without him. I talk about him because I have no one else here. And not that it’s any of your business who I screw but your suspicion is absurd! Come on, dude. You know I love girls!"

Chad growled. "Yeah. Right. Sorry I insulted your precious Johnny boy." Chad sniggered. "Won’t do it again. But you’re not the same as you used to be."

Jared knew, it was true. "Yeah, you know, Chad, I grew up. Maybe it’s time you did, too. Good Night." Without any other goodbye, Jared disconnected the call and switched off his cell just to make sure that Chad wouldn’t bother him again.

He threw it onto his bed, stripped off his clothes, and wandered over into the bathroom. The tub was now full, the scent of Sam’s lavender bath oil Jared had learned to love enveloping him at once.

While he started to relax, the hot water doing its miracle of loosening his aching muscles, Jared couldn’t help but think about Chad’s words.

Did everyone who knew about John see him like that, as the vagrant he used to be, even though John had left that path? And was he really just talking about John and no one else? Probably, but the man... he was part of his life in River’s End, wasn’t he? John and he, they were almost attached at the hip, spending most of the day’s hours together, every day of the week.

They were partners, confidants, and friends. It didn’t have anything to do with love... well, not with that kind of love... and least of all not with physical attraction or sex. He wasn’t like that. Not that he minded, not really, if people thought they had to do it with people of the same sex, more power to them, but it wasn’t Jared’s way of life. Never would be. The only dick he loved was his own.

Touching it, Jared stroked himself deftly, moaning with satisfaction as he felt the blood rushing south, each move a relief, taking him a little higher. When he came, he saw kind, green eyes, wondering which of the many girls he had bonked had eyes like that.

**He**

The little crush had deepened and, nowadays, he was head over heels in love with Jared.

On normal days, he had it under control, but on days like today, it wasn’t so easy. All he wanted to do was hold Jared and kiss the deep frown on his forehead away. Not that it’d help much... It wouldn’t bring their work of yesterday back; the freshly built shed they had found in smoking ruins when they came back to the orchard in the morning.

Jared had been confronted with vandalism before, but mostly it had been minor stuff, like paint or toilet paper on his car, an ugly graffiti on Orchard House’s wall, or a hateful, anonymous letter that he should go back to where he had come from. Burning down a shed was a step further into a direction he really didn’t like. It was not only mean but it could be dangerous; he was scared for his friend.

What had happened had shaken Jared deeply. He’d been able to hold on to his composure until the Sheriff had left - as always not giving a shit about what happened to the hated Padalecki - but then Jared had broken down, shaking violently. Jared hadn’t cried, but it had been close, and it had taken a long time until he had managed to calm his friend down a little, bearing him company under one of the singed trees that grew too close to the shed.

"Why, John?" Jared had sobbed, not really expecting an answer. "Why do they hate me so much? What do they want me to do?"

He knew what they wanted Jared to do. They wanted him to leave, but Jared couldn’t. The farm was his; he had sort of a mission and, most of all, Jared liked it here, having grown fond of the place. Besides, Jared was already doing a lot. He ordered all his working material from the local hardware store, had generously donated to the fire department and Sheriff station, and, when the whole town had helped to rebuild the community house, Jared had pitched in like everyone else. He had seen the appreciative glances and had heard the praising whispers, but none of the men had been fair enough to take the first step and say it aloud. And now the hate towards Jared had taken a new dimension.

Not sure how else he could help Jared, he had eventually started to clean the burnt wood away. Watching him sweat and curse under his breath had been enough for Jared to finally get his ass up, too, shaking off the desperation and self-pity.

In the end though, they hadn’t rebuilt the shed, but had cleared out the salon in Orchard House, getting rid of the old, wavy wallpaper and the ruined hardwood floor.

Jared had seemed to be in good spirits, telling him trivia about events that had occurred there, smiling gently when the memories crowded his mind.

Now though, as they were driving back to River’s End, the burning sky at their backs, he noticed that it was nothing but a crumbling facade. Still shattered, the younger man was close to giving up, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

A part of him could understand. Flying to LA and leaving everything behind was so much easier.

"Don’t you even think about giving up, Jay," he whispered. "I won’t let you."

Jared snorted. "Why, man?"

"Because you didn’t give up on me, man. And the farm... it’s both our dream. We will fight and, in the end, we will win."

The younger man shook his head like he didn’t believe it. "Why?"

"We’re both in it together, Jay. That’s what friends are for, remember?"

Blinking rapidly, Jared nodded, not daring to look at him. If Jared had, he would have seen the tears in his eyes and the gratitude in his face.

When he hugged Jared goodnight after supper, he did something he had never dared before and kissed Jared on the cheek.

He looked at him weirdly, strangely enchanted, and surprised, but then he smiled.

***

Three nights later, Farmer Miller’s barn burned down, and two more nights later, the new community house.

It wasn’t a big relief when both of them realized that the burning shed hadn’t been anything personal; the fear of when and where the firebug might strike again was just too big.

**Jared**

Jared knew some people suspected him or John to be the firebug, simply because they were strangers in River’s End. It would have been easy, burning down his own shed first, to avert suspicion for what happened later. He felt the glances and heard the whispers when he bought material, and he couldn’t help but feel hurt, not just for himself but for John, too.

It was just their luck that they were having dinner at the inn, talking to Misha Collins, with several more townspeople witnessing it, when Mayor Singer’s house burned to the ground. They could hear panicked screams on the street, and when John, Sam and he hurried out of the inn’s front door, the dark sky was glowing red and the flowery scented air was filled with smoke.

Like everyone else, Jared and John helped to extinguish the fire, working hand in hand to save the few possessions they could. When it was done, when Singer’s home wasn’t anything more than a smoldering heap of wood and ashes, the heartbroken Mayor thanked Jared and John, like he had thanked everybody else, for having helped to save his estate.

Jared wished it would have been under other, better circumstances, but after that, people looked at him differently.

Shortly after this, two young brothers came to River’s End, looking for a job. It was actually Mayor Singer who sent them over to Orchard House, and when it got around that Padalecki had hired them, no one dared to say a bad thing about the young man. The brothers stayed for the whole summer.

**8**

**Jared**

He had almost forgotten about the email he had sent Jeff Morgan about the anonymous author.

At first, Jared had checked his emails daily, hoping for a quick reply and for his curiosity to be satisfied, but with the busy times that had come after, Jared had had other things on his mind. Eventually, he had been sure that Jeff wouldn’t bother to answer his question. He had put his tattered copy of  _Pieces of Me_ into his closet and, even though Jared had resolved to order a fresh copy, to at least read the epilogue completely, in the end he had simply forgotten about it.

That was why Jared now was staring in surprise at Jeff Morgan’s bold name in his inbox, his memories suddenly dug out and a little hole of nausea in his belly. Now, as Jared knew that a part of the mystery might be revealed, the emotions he had felt while reading the book were back again. Once more, Jared could feel the poor man’s desperation and pain, and even though the morning sun shone brightly into his room, he felt a shiver running down his spine.

Jared quickly opened the email, skimming through the text. A belated good wish for his birthday last week, some random news and, yeah, at the end, something about the book. At first, Jeff had written a lot of shit about the book being anonymous and him being bound to silence, but towards the end, Jeff had answered Jared’s questions anyways, well, at least the important ones. Yeah, the writer’s first name was Jensen, but he really couldn’t tell him more about his background than what the book had already told him and, sadly, the guy had committed suicide at the end of 2000, just a few months after the book had been published.

Jared stared at the shattering news in shock, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye socket to prevent the hated liquid from running. He hadn’t even cried when Grandma Rose had died. And now, he was about to cry for an anonymous author who had chosen death freely? It was crazy... But Jared couldn’t help the sadness that choked him, when he had suffered and hoped with Jensen, when a part of the man had fought and had always given it another try, no matter how cruel the setback.

He clicked the email away, concentrating on why he had turned on his laptop in the first place – to check his finances and pay some bills.

As soon as that was done, Jared grabbed his car keys and left the inn. He needed air, the wide sky, the scent of flowers, and the wind streaming through his hair. Just open space and peace. That alone was funny, because a year ago, he would have drunken himself into a stupor, or he would have found some other distraction, like a chick to screw. That man, however, was long gone; a gentler, more caring version of Jared now walked the earth, who saw the world with different eyes.

It didn’t really surprise Jared when he drove his car towards Orchard House without really thinking about it. Although rebuilding the farm was a sweaty business, the place exerted an enchantment whenever he set foot onto his property, and when he parked the car and got out of it, the charm worked itself again.

It was quiet and peaceful, with no other living soul being close, with bees humming and birds twittering and the closer Jared got to the overgrown garden, the more he was enveloped by the sweet scent of roses. It had been Grandma Rose’s favorite place on the farm and Jared hated that it was all overgrown, with weeds slowly choking the flowers.

Fetching some old, rusty but still good enough tools from where he had stored them on the house’s porch, Jared started to weed here and root out there, cutting dead branches or the few bushes that had survived the many years of neglect.

It was good, satisfying work. Jared welcomed the sweat on his forehead and he didn’t even flinch whenever he stung or scratched himself with the thorns, the tiny blood drops making him feel alive, the exhausting work making him forget why he had come here in the first place.

"Jay?" he heard a very familiar voice calling from some distance. "What are you doing here?"

He stopped his work, wiping the sweat from his forehead while he was waiting until John was with him. "I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?" Jared prompted. "It’s our free day."

"Sam needs roses and there are more than enough here, so I offered to cut some." Suddenly remembering that the roses were actually Jared’s, he added, "You don’t mind, do you?"

"Nah. Of course not. Help yourself." With an inviting gesture, Jared pointed at the countless rose bushes, well aware that he hadn’t answered John’s question yet. He didn’t want to if he could help it.

For a while, the men worked silently side by side.

Then, John started to talk, about random things, this and that, showing just how much he had opened up to Jared. Chatter, however, wasn’t what Jared wanted, and he only replied with monosyllabic answers.

Eventually, John stopped his ramblings, and when Jared looked up, he saw the frown on his friend’s face.

"Jay? Are you okay? You seem... odd." John’s voice was tight and a little high with anxiety.

"Sure, I’m okay," Jared claimed, but he didn’t meet his friend’s eyes and, if he thought that John would let it be, he was mistaken. With them spending so much time in each other’s pocket, the older man had become quite a Jared specialist, and the missing eye contact was enough for him to come closer, a doubting look darkening his handsome face.

"Yeah, and that’s why you can’t look at me, Jay. You know, you can tell me anything... unless you don’t want to."

It was the way how John bit his lip, all self-conscious, wondering if Jared didn’t want to tell him because he didn’t trust him, that made the younger man give in a little. "I know that, man. But it’s stupid, really."

"Can’t be. If it makes you look like that, all sad and thoughtful, it must be important," John said matter-of-factly.

Jared sighed. Over the weeks John had slowly emerged from his shell, Jared had learned that the man could be one stubborn son of a bitch, and by the way he looked at him now, with stabbing, intelligent green eyes, it was clear that he wouldn’t relent that fast. At this point, it was best to simply tell John the basics. "A while ago, I read this book: A young man’s tragic life story, written anonymously. It was published by one of my dad’s friends. I wrote to him to find out what had happened to the guy. He answered today." John looked at him, curious and fully concentrated. "The man killed himself." It even hurt to say it out loud, and it hit him again, like when he had first read Jeff’s email.

Unsure of what to say, John looked at him. Jared didn’t blame him. He was still not really well-versed on how to behave in certain situations and this definitely was one of them. "You’re sad about it?"

"Yeah. A little. I know it’s stupid. I didn’t know the man. But, the book, and his life... it opened my eyes. In a way, the book did a lot for me; it set the ball rolling in turning me into who I am now." John had done much more for Jared, without even knowing it, but Jared knew, without the book, he probably would never really have cared for John in the first place.

"Not stupid," John assured him. "Books can be friends, too, I think."

It made Jared smile a little. "Yeah, I think so, too."

"Want to tell me about it?"

Jared shrugged. He sat down on the warm grass, playing with a rose petal, and told John about the book.

"Sounds a little like me," the older man said thoughtfully.

"At first, I thought so, too, but you’re not really alike, I think. I admired the guy for not giving up, no matter how hard it was, and I admire you for the same reasons, for fighting, and staying strong no matter how hard it was. But the big difference between him and you is that, in the end, he didn’t make it, while you did."

John smiled. "He didn’t have a Jared to save him. If he had, he’d have made it, too."

John’s words let Jared’s heart swell with emotion. Suddenly feeling a little better and lighter, he hugged his friend tightly, thankful that he had made the difference.

**He**

He couldn’t stop thinking about the book Jared had told him about. It crowded his mind, but with what it was about, he wasn’t really surprised.

Maybe he would find a little solace in reading it, in finding out more about someone who was like him, who had shared his fear and pain? Jared might have denied it, but the fact was, from what his friend had told him, it was a story much like his own.

Homeless. Sick. Alone. They weren’t so different.

The big difference was that he had been  _lucky_ . Had he not come to River’s End, had Jared not come to River’s End... It was a series of coincidences that had brought them together. Most of all, it had been Sam’s kindness and Jared’s helpfulness that had lead him to being here, in this room at the inn.

No, he wouldn’t read the book. Him and that anonymous writer might share pieces of their past, but their future was something different. And that was what mattered; his future with Jared.

It was time that he left the past behind, and let the times of his homelessness be what they were; only a bad memory.

***

He woke up gasping for air, and, for one moment, he didn’t know where he was. Panic seemed to overpower him. His heart was hammering nervously, perspiration was running down his forehead and his clammy hands were grabbing the cool sheets desperately.

Never before had he had such a dream. It had been pictures, glimpses into something he wasn’t sure was his past or future, his life or someone else’s, or just a weird, confusing dream without any other meaning.

He tried to grasp the images, locking them into his memory to find out if maybe they were part of his secret, but the moment he concentrated on them, they were gone. The only two pictures that stayed were of a little, blonde girl crying, and of hands being beaten bloody by a cane. Her sobs were still ringing in his ears, and he could still feel the burning pain searing through his body, taking his breath away, causing tears to flow.

In spite of the humid summer night, he shivered, and even when he snuggled himself deeper into his bed and curled himself together, the cold didn’t go away.

The longer he thought about it, the worse it got, until he was outright trembling. It reminded him painfully of the night when he had had his first flashback. Then, Jared had been there, helping him.

Jared. His friend.

Without thinking about it any longer, he got up and left his room.

**

"John?" his friend asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What’s wrong? Are you sick?"

He caught the worry in Jared’s eyes, and it made him feel both a little better and even worse. "I think I dreamed about my past." He was shocked at how broken his voice sounded. "I can’t fall asleep. I... I am confused, Jay. Even a little scared."

Jared’s sleep warm hand curled around his wrist, and tugged him into his room. He looked down at him, kind and gentle and understanding, like it was the most normal thing for a grown up man to come see his best friend in the middle of the night because he’d had a nightmare. "It’s okay. You want to stay here? And we talk in the morning?"

Deep down, he had hoped that Jared would allow him to stay the night, but now as it was happening, he wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea. "I... It... Yeah?."

"Sure, come over here." Jared had meanwhile crawled back into bed and was now patting the mattress gently. "It’s okay." He could see a hint of amusement in his friend’s eyes. "Don’t be shy."

He was, now more than ever before. But he was still so cold, confused and worried what the images meant, and everything looked so inviting. The bed, bigger than his, Jared’s warmth, simply his presence, tall and muscled and protective.

"Thank you," he whispered, slowly coming closer, a part of him scared that Jared might change his mind. But he lifted the cover a little and, when he had lain down, stiff as a board, Jared made sure that he was warmly packed in.

"Relax. It’s okay. It’s just you and me." His friend turned the light off and the darkness helped him to relax, the halo of Jared’s warmth caressing his skin. A part of him hoped that Jared would do more than that and encase him in his arms, but that was girly and cheesy and very much unlikely.

But then, when he believed that Jared had fallen asleep again, he felt his hand gently ghosting over his arm and down to his hand. "You’ll be alright," Jared promised as he squeezed it softly.

His fingers curled around Jared’s quite automatically and his friend didn’t jerk back, but twined them properly together, creating a connection running deep down to his heart.

Slowly, his fear melted away and the steady rhythm of his friend’s breathing lulled him and brought him peace and sleep.

**Jared**

The last time Jared had woken up with someone else, it had been with a very naked, very hot brunette and at first, he scrunched his face in surprise, wondering where the warm body next to his came from.

Then, as he opened his eyes, it all came back to him. Hair sticking up in all directions, arm bent awkwardly, John slumbered peacefully, one side of his face buried deeply into one of Jared’s pillows. Whatever memories had been haunting him, in the end John had been able to shake them off and fall asleep again. And maybe, Jared hoped, it had helped a little bit that he hadn’t been alone.

Having been on the verge of sleep and only remembering everything hazily, Jared was, nonetheless, quite sure that they’d been holding hands. It had felt uncommonly good, Jared had to admit. Intimate, yes, but not gay, like people would say. Just a little gesture of love between two very straight friends.

The first beam of sunlight shone through a gap in the curtains and touched John’s cheek, illuminating the prominent freckles, far too many to count now that John was working outside almost every day. He was very good-looking, Jared had to admit. Who would have thought that under the dirt and layers of rags he had seen the first time they met, a man that handsome with a heart so kind would hide?

He smiled. He was glad that he had jumped over his own shadow back then, giving John a chance, and himself, too, without even knowing it. It had brought him so much good.

The man next to him mumbled something inaudibly, more a sigh than words, and stirred, turning to the other side. With his cheek now spotting a funny pillow crease pattern, he looked very young and vulnerable.

Jared knew John could very well take care of himself, even though his self-consciousness had driven him to unreasonable decisions, but the urge to protect him was back, stronger than ever before. He just wanted to make sure that his friend was fine and was coping as well as possible with the pieces of his memory slowly coming back.

"I’ll be there for you," Jared whispered, softly touching John’s shoulder. He just hoped it would make a difference.

***

Looking frankly and attentively at his friend, Jared listened to what the older man had dreamed about the previous night. There wasn’t much John did remember but, even now, in the light of day, under a tree laden with tiny green apples, it was clear how much it still disturbed his friend.

A crying girl and a boy being whipped with a cane.

It could be anything - even Jared had a very vivid picture of it in mind, sure that he had seen something like that before, probably in a movie. Unlike him though, John could count the movies he had seen so far on his two hands, and Jared was quite sure it was more than this, that it probably really was a memory.

"What do you think, Jay?" John looked at him openly, waiting for his verdict.

"Honestly? I think it’s a memory."

"Do you think the boy was me?"

Jared didn’t have a clue. Dreams could mean everything and nothing. But by the way John had described it, the way he had felt the cane cutting the boy’s hand, the pain numbing the limb, and the burning wound, the chances were big. "It might have been you."

"What does it mean, Jay?" He saw the insecurity in his friend’s eyes, the question of whether his parents had beaten him; if it had happened more than once, on a regular basis.

"I can’t tell you, man. But if you want to... We can try to find out." He had offered it before; back then, when the snow was still so high that they could build snowmen, but John had never talked about it again. Jared had never pushed him; it was his life and his past, and only he could make the decision. But he wanted to make it clear that he’d support John, financially, but most of all mentally, if he decided to agree. "You know, we could hire a PI, or try hypnosis... You know you can count on me, don’t you?"

Fingers digging into his palm, John took his time to answer. "I’m still scared, Jay," he admitted. "But... the way it is, it’s not an option, either. It’s already driving me crazy. Now, with only a few glimpses of memories, it’s actually worse than before with nothing at all."

Jared nodded. He could very well believe it, and he actually was proud of John at how well he handled it.

"Maybe I should give it a try."

"Good," Jared said casually, hiding his relief. "Let’s find out who you are."

**He**

He had never shown it to anyone. Sure, the police officers back at the hospital had thrown a glance at the tattered book page but, ever since, he had protected it, not even giving it to Sam when she had asked him ages ago.

Now though, with Jared having contacted an investigator who would be meeting them in the next few days, he knew that he couldn’t detain the information any longer. Besides, Jared had earned the right to take a look at it a long time ago.

He opened the drawer where he kept it, and carefully took it out. For miles and miles, he had carried the page, through wind and rain, through sun and snow. It had paid the price. Now, it was in a worse state than ever before; discolored and undulated, torn in some places, water drops or burns having almost extinguished the print in other places. He doubted that it would be useful to find out who he was, now much less than ever.

With his shoulders stooped, he handed Jared the page.

The younger man took it, looking at it closely, at what seemed every tear and every blotch before he turned it around and did the same with the back side. Scrunching his eyes and holding the fragile paper closer into the sunlight, Jared tried to read the words, shaking his head in frustration after a while. "The little I can read doesn’t make much sense." Jared pulled down the corners of his mouth until his face was a mask of pity.

He nodded. "Yeah. I know. It’s just... frustrating, Jay," he said casually, keeping the emotion out of his voice. He didn’t want Jared to see how desperate he was that the little he had from his past was a barely readable, tattered page from a book. "It could be from any book."

"Not from any book," Jared objected. "It’s written in English, so it’s not foreign. I bet it’s not a children’s book. They’re often illustrated and the font is bigger. I also doubt it’s a specialist’s literature – it just doesn’t seem like it. If I were to guess, I’d say it’s a page out of a paperback novel."

Jared’s conclusions made sense, but they didn’t help him in the least. There were still millions of possibilities out there, and he felt the emotions he had tried so hard to hide finally overpowering him. "Why did I carry it around, Jay? What does it mean?"

Carefully, Jared put the piece of paper on the small table, and stepped real close to him, understanding flooding his face. "I wish I knew. But don’t give up here, man. We will find out who you are, and give you back your name."

As arms wrapped around him, weaving him into a web of warmth, safety and sympathy, it gave him strength he had never had before.

**9**

**Jared**

The enthusiasm he and John had felt about finally finding out something about the older man’s past had been replaced by disillusionment. Neither the detective that Jared had hired, nor the hypnosis, had brought much besides dead ends and a really bad time for John. After each hypnosis session, he was wrecked, and whenever Matt, the PI called, his face would light up, only to change into a mask of tragedy when the guy would tell him that there wasn’t any news.

Jared was worried for his friend. Part of him already regretted that he had ever made this offer, and he was feeling sort of guilty for John being so miserable now. He wanted to make it up somehow, and he was wondering what he could do, when he overheard Tom and Mike talking about a new, cool bar having opened in one of the closest bigger towns.

If the two brothers were to be believed, there were lots of young, pretty, willing chicks waiting for guys like them, and maybe this was exactly what John needed: some girl slobbering over his pretty face, giving him the self-esteem he so often missed. And Jared wouldn’t mind a conquest either, his right hand not really being satisfactory enough after half a year.

"Hey, John," Jared said casually, handing him a cool bottle of soda and the sandwiches Sam had packed them for their lunch break. "Did you hear Tom and Mike talking about that new bar over in Newport?" He didn’t even wait for a reply. "Sounds like fun. We should go, too. See something else, maybe get to know someone new, maybe even meet a girl." Jared wiggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously.

"I," John stammered, turning red like a lobster. "I... ummm... don’t know."

Suddenly it dawned on Jared. His buddy here probably hadn’t had sex for ages, maybe he couldn’t even remember the last time. Poor John. "Aww. Don’t you get all shy here, man," he said with a hint of tease in his voice, but his eyes were still gentle. "I bet the girls will love you."

If John had been embarrassed before, he was damn uncomfortable now, stepping from one foot to the next and nervously scratching his neck. "I don’t think... I shouldn’t... I can’t, Jay." With that, he walked away, not looking back when Jared called him.

**

Neither did John return after the lunch break, nor did he answer his phone. Worried that he had gone too far, Jared called Sam, but she hadn’t seen him, either.

Now, Jared was feeling worse than ever. He had made the suggestion to cheer up his buddy, not to make him feel more miserable, for whatever reason. Jared wanted to look for his friend, but he couldn’t leave Tom and Mike alone. They were hard-working and eager, but it wasn’t enough to make up their lack of knowledge and inexperience. Besides, it would just seem unfair to run away like John, leaving them alone with work they barely could handle as a threesome.

A couple of times during the course of the afternoon Jared tried to reach John again, but all he got was his voicemail and, eventually, he gave up, deeply worried.

**He**

"Shit," he pressed out between his teeth. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He had behaved like shit, and now he felt like shit and everything was just... shit. All Jared had wanted to do was to entertain him, to give him something new, and he had freaked out and had pushed Jared and his offer away, just because he was too damn scared of Jared noticing that he wasn’t normal.

What would Jared do if he found out his biggest secret? Would he be repulsed? Would he avoid him or, worse, treat him like scum? Fire him?

He trusted Jared, he really did, but him finding out that he was gay could really tear a gap between the two friends, one that would be hard to overcome.

What should he do now? Behave like nothing had happened? Claim that he had just freaked out because he hadn’t had a girl for ages? Insist on just not going? Or should he simply tell Jared the truth?

Did he maybe even owe him the truth? Jared had been so good and kind to him; sharing with him so much, past and present, and future dreams. He should just tell him that he was into men. It shouldn’t be a problem, should it? But why was the mere thought of doing this so hard, tightening his chest with fear?

A knock pulled him out of his confusing thoughts. He didn’t answer, and stayed as quiet as he had been before, hoping that Jared would go away. He couldn’t look him in the eye, not now. Not before he had decided what he should do.

"John? I know you’re in there." Jared sounded as miserable as he felt and he scrunched his face, like it hurt him. "I’m sorry if I said anything that hurt you. I was being stupid. Please open the door, man."

He didn’t. He stared at the door, like it would vanish any second and Jared would step through, but nothing happened. Eventually, he heard his friend sigh and soft footsteps walking away.

It made him feel even more miserable.

***

It took him two hours of being torn, of weighing the pros and cons, until he decided to tell Jared the truth. He had a lot to lose and not much to win, but he had to risk it nonetheless. If he didn’t tell Jared, he would ask him again and, eventually, the truth would get out anyways. Then, he was sure of it, Jared would be pissed and disappointed, and rightly so. It might not be Jared’s business who he was into, but good friends, such as they were, told each other this sort of stuff, didn’t they?

When he had reached the door that led to Jared’s room, he hesitated for a moment, listening if he could hear any voices from the other side. The TV was playing in the background but, other than that, it was quiet and, before he could change his mind, he knocked once.

It took Jared a while, but eventually he heard his feet shuffling over the floor and the door was opened. "John." Jared tried for a neutral tone but it was obvious that he was a little aggrieved about what had happened.

"Can I come in? I think I need to explain something."

Jared nodded and headed towards the couch to switch off the TV. "What’s going on, man?" His friend asked as he made himself comfortable on the sofa. "Why did you run away like that? I’m sorry if I said something that hurt you, but..."

His legs felt all wobbly when he followed his friend over to the couch. "It’s me." He cut his friend off. "Not you. You know I love to hang out with you."

Jared looked like he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. "Then why don’t you want to go to this bar with me? Wouldn’t be much different, apart from the hot chicks, and we both..."

"I’m gay, Jared," he pressed out between his lips and his heart began hammering against his chest.

There was nothing but silence and Jared gaping at him. He opened his mouth, only to close it again, and the only sound that escaped it was a weird gurgling noise.

This wasn’t a good sign, was it? Suddenly, nausea rose up from his belly like the tide, and he was sure something bad was going to happen.

"Gay." It was neither a question nor a statement. It was just weird, like Jared couldn’t really believe it and his face underscored this impression. "Wow... I never... Are you sure?"

It was better than Jared screaming at him. calling him a fag, and throwing him out of his room and out of his life, but it was still a little insulting. Still, he nodded. "Yeah. I’m sure, Jared. You just know these things."

"Emm... Okay." It was clear that Jared’s mind was still processing the news, wondering what he should do with this information. Maybe, he had never been in a situation like that before. "I, umm..."

"Maybe, I should go." He didn’t want to make it any harder for his friend, with the situation already uncommonly awkward between them.

"No!" Jared called a bit too quickly to sound genuine. But then, he smiled at him slightly. "I’m sorry, John. I know I’m the worst friend ever here. But, em... I don’t really know what to say. I’ve never had a friend come out to me." Jared really looked like he was at a loss here.

"I don’t know either. I’ve never done this before... I just thought you should know, you know. We can go out to that bar but I won’t chat up girls."

"Maybe you can find a guy to pick up?" Jared suggested carefully.

He shrugged, smiling slightly. "Yeah, maybe." He didn’t really want to, still having it bad for Jared, but his reaction had made one thing crystal clear: if he had ever had a pinch of hope, it was gone now. Jared might love him as a friend, if he ever could overcome the shock, but he’d never, ever love him back.

"Emm... I should go now." He jumped up from the sofa abruptly. "I see you’re tired and I... I am too, and... I’m sorry, Jared, for running away like that. I shouldn’t have."

Without wishing his friend goodnight, he fled from the room, his eyes suddenly stinging annoyingly. It was nothing else but his tiredness, he tried to persuade himself, rubbing them hard.

**Jared**

He still couldn’t believe that John had just come out to him. It wasn’t that Jared was a homophobe, far from it. Some of the guys he had been hanging out with in LA were gay, but exactly because of this, he had just never expected it. John was so different from them. Sure, he was reserved and shy and self-conscious, sometimes behaving a little, well, girly, but Jared had always blamed that on him having been alone and homeless for so many years. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with it, but was because he was into men?

The moment this thought sneaked into his mind, Jared scolded himself for it. He was being obnoxious here, a part of the old Jared coming back. It was an assumption made by prejudice and stereotype, and not fair towards the man who had become such a good friend.

His best friend actually, now that Jared thought about it. Without really noticing it, John had stolen a big part of his heart, and how did Jared pay him back? By asking stupid questions, even doubting his outing, and not really appreciating the effort it must have cost John.

Jared felt dirty and stained.

Angry with himself, he punched his fist into the couch and got up to tell John that they were good.

***

John kept him waiting in front of his door for two whole minutes, which seemed like two whole years, but when he rapped his knuckles against the wood another time, John finally opened the door.

"I’m sorry," Jared said without any further introduction. "I’m sorry for my stupid question and my shitty reaction and for being such a horrible friend. I really don’t mind you being gay. You’re my best friend. I love you just the way you are." Stepping closer, he wrapped John into his arms. "Are we good?"

Instead of an answer, John melted into the touch, and returned it tightly.

Eventually, John’s hand brushed over his chest until it found its place above his heart.

A shudder ran through Jared. Never before had someone touched him like that, all gentle and loving.

Relief chased his worry away.

They were good.

**He**

Now that he had come out to Jared, he felt better, more content than probably ever before. Not even the unsuccessful and straining hypnosis sessions, or Matt’s unsuccessful hunt for his past, could dampen his spirits. It was like a weight he hadn’t even known existed had been lifted off his shoulders and his friendship with Jared felt more genuine than ever before.

Jared knew he had given him everything, and the way the younger man sometimes looked at him showed that he deeply appreciated it. And Jared had returned the favor; telling him bits and pieces of his past that he hadn’t known about. They were silly things, like him being afraid of flying, or massive ones, like most of his folks thought that he wasn’t worth Orchard House, simply because he was the family loser.

Realizing that Jared had issues, too, but just was so much better in covering them up, helped him a good deal to cope with his own, and the progress they made at the farm gave him an additional boost, too. He loved to see the farm change; the dilapidated buildings being rebuilt into something new. He couldn’t wait for the day when Jared was finally able to move into Orchard House. He just hoped that, in one way or another, he could be a part of it.

After they had settled the reason why he didn’t want to go out, and after Jared had promised that he wouldn’t try to set him up with the first cute guy they stumbled over, he had agreed to go out with them after all.

With Tom and Mike in tow, they had shared a taxi to the bar, and were having a good night – that was until Jared vanished to the other end of the bar, and he found him with a petite, dark haired, exotic looking woman in his arms, their lips glued together.

He had known that, sooner or later, this would happen, but it hurt like hell, seeing Jared do to this girl what he wished so much Jared would do to him.

He was barely able to hide his pitiful face, and didn’t even try to conceal his bad mood afterwards. Tom drew the right conclusion frighteningly fast, looking at him with kind eyes. "He loves you, but not like that, John. You have to let him go. Otherwise, sooner or later, it’ll kill you. Unrequited love can be real bad."

He didn’t believe it. He should have.

**Part 3: Autumn 2005**

**10**

**He**

For the first time, the hypnosis sessions he still endured every second week had revealed something. Closer and better than the first time, he had seen the stoutly built, bearded man, and had even been able to describe him. What he still didn’t know was how they were connected and what part the guy had played in his past, but he had a queasy feeling in his belly thinking about him. It made him certain that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Even though there had been some success, in the whole, he was disheartened, the sessions demanding so much from him for such little things.

Matt hadn’t come up with much, either. He had not been able to find out anything about neither the book page, it being just too torn to decipher enough of the words, nor about the cloak, it being a mass produced model of the late 70s. Matt had also visited the little town where John had woken up in, but after so many years, people could barely remember anything. The exception was a boy in his early teens who swore that he had seen a black SUV in the night when he had looked out of the window.

It wasn’t enough to work with, but he wondered if it was the SUV’s tires he had seen in his first ever flashback.

Without Jared, he probably would have given up a long time ago. It was his friend who seemed to catch him whenever it became too much, and who convinced him to keep on searching for his past, sure that, sooner or later, all the trouble would be worth it.

But it was this particular care and support that troubled him a little. He hadn’t forgotten Tom’s advice and, in a corner of his mind, the fact that Jared was straight was saved, but the way the younger man treated him made him wonder if, maybe, there was more to it than met the eye.

Sure, Jared was dating this Genevieve girl he had met at the bar, and if the noises he sometimes heard in the night and that made his stomach churn were any indication, it was going really well, but on the other hand... It wasn’t normal for a friend to love him so much and do all this just for his peace and salvation, was it?

Knocking softly before opening the door, it was his friend who stepped into his room now, tearing him away from his confusing thoughts. His hair was still wet from a shower he must have taken earlier and he had changed his sweaty working clothes for jeans and a light button-down. What really caught his eyes was the wrapped box Jared tried to hide behind his back in vain; dark blue paper with a silver ribbon.

"You got a minute, man?" Jared asked.

Only now did he notice that his friend looked a little anxious and a really bad feeling struck him. Maybe, Jared was going to propose to Genevieve, and he came asking him for advice or help, or something else, to make the event very special. He wanted Jared to be happy, more than anything, but the mere thought that Jared was going to marry that shallow chick made him sick.

"Yeah. Sure. Come in."

Jared shook his head. "Nah. Actually, I need you to come with me."

"Let me guess? It’s going to be a long minute?"

The younger man laughed. "Yeah. You don’t have any other plans, do you?"

He huffed humorlessly. Apart from Jared, he didn’t have any friends, and if he didn’t spend his free time with the younger man or Sam, he spent it on his own.

Jared looked at him a little sadly but didn’t comment on it. He knew that Jared wished that he’d go out more often and make other acquaintances other than him, simply because it would have been good for him.

"Where are we going?" he asked curiously when Jared headed towards his car.

Jared shrugged his shoulders mysteriously. "You’ll see."

He noticed it just a few minutes later, when Jared turned into the road leading in the direction of Orchard House. "The farm?" he asked in surprise. They’d spent the whole day there. What could Jared possibly want to do there?

Jared just nodded, not saying anything else. Silently, he kept on driving, parking the car in the brand new garage they had just finished the other day.

"It’ll be finished soon." The younger man stated the obvious. They worked there every day, of course he knew that it’d only be a matter of days until Jared could move in. "I told Sam we’ll move out at the end of the month."

He frowned, not really understanding. "We?"

"Yeah. We. If you want to." Jared pulled the box out of his bag. Now that he saw it a little closer, he noticed it was much too big for an engagement ring, and even though he knew it was mean, he was quite relieved. "That’s for you, my friend," Jared said, giving him the box with a solemn look on his face.

With trembling hands, he took it. He didn’t have a clue what it was. It could be anything, but he was sure it was important, and more than a casual present.

He sat down on the soft grass, and reverently opened the box. There were two keys and an official looking document inside. "What?" he stammered in surprise.

"The slightly bigger key," Jared announced, "fits the door to Orchard House, where you’ll  _always,_ " he emphasized it, "be welcome." He made a little pause, laced with expectance. "The other one opens the door to Larkspur Cottage." They had called the steward’s cottage this because of the countless larkspurs that grew in the little garden that surrounded it. "It’s yours, John. I don’t know what the future holds for me, or for us, and if you want to stay or not, but if you do, I’d like you to run the farm. You have the right touch for the work here, and I’d really like to work with you."

Staring at the little box, he couldn’t find the right words to say. A house. A place he could call his own. A future. It was overwhelming. Everything he could have said would have sounded clumsy and there were no words good enough to express what he really felt.

"There’s something else." Jared searched his friend’s face for what his dumbness might mean. "Just, um, read the document."

His fingers trembled even harder when he opened it. He skimmed it. He stared. He read it again, more properly, word by word. They made perfect sense, but the meaning of them just couldn’t be.

"Jay?" he asked with a high-pitched voice. "You can’t possibly..." How pathetic. Now he was full-on stammering, but this was too massive, and too unexpected to handle.

Jared smiled at him broadly. "Sure I can. This place here," Jared drew a huge circle with his gigantic arm, "is yours as much as it is mine. It is your home, John. We rebuilt it together...."

"You paid me for it!" he threw in.

"You’re not my employee, John," Jared said gently. It was true. Other than with Tom and Mike, who Jared had a labor agreement with, he and John hadn’t done anything like that. Jared paid him wages and health insurance, but other than that, it was pretty much unofficial.

Vehemently, he shook his head. He couldn’t... It was too much, far too much. How could he ever accept it? He felt tears stinging in his eyes. "Jay.... I...." His voice broke down.

His friend slid a little closer, touching his shoulder softly. "Hey. It’s okay. You deserve it."

"Half of the farm, Jay," he breathed out in amazement. "How could I deserve this?"

Jared’s arm sneaked around him, pulling him against his side. "No one deserves it more than you, man. My grandma left me the farm because she wanted to give me a chance, she wanted me to prove myself. I think she would have loved the thought that I gave someone else a chance they needed and deserved, so much more than I. Please, my friend, take it."

How could he ever accept this gift? It was too big. Not only because the property was so valuable, but also because of the meaning the farm had to the Padaleckis. It was a massive part of their past, and Jared had just given him half of that history. "What will your folks say?" he asked. "Giving half of the farm to a stranger... a homeless man who can’t remember his past," he said bitterly.

"The farm is mine, John. I can give it to who I wish. Besides," he scorned him, now looking a little displeased, "you’re so much more than a homeless man who can’t remember his past. You have so much potential and talent. I really, really think you should have it."

It was the way Jared looked at him now, warm and kind and encouraging, that finally persuaded him. It was clear that Jared was sure that the choice he had made was the best possible one, and that together they could make something.

"Won’t you get into trouble with the proviso in your grandma’s testament?" He just had to know that. He didn’t want Jared to lose the farm because of some weird legal stuff no normal human being understood.

"Nah. Don’t worry about that. I checked with our family lawyer. The testament doesn’t say that I can’t give it away, just that it has to be me who rebuilds it, not someone else from the family. And you know, we had a good harvest. With the renovations being done, the farm is as good as mine. And yours now, if you want to. You want to, don’t you?" With puppy eyes on full force, Jared looked at him pleadingly.

"Yeah, I want to." It was the easiest and the hardest thing he had ever said at the same time. Easy, because how could he not want to do this, working together, sharing something as massive as this with his best friend? Hard because he was still not really good at accepting generosity in general, and gifts in particular. He was always scared that deep down, whoever was nice to him, just did it because of pity for his past.

"Awesome!" Jared cried happily, sweeping him into a full body hug. "I can’t wait to tell my parents at Thanksgiving. You will come, won’t you?"

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, driving the tears out of his eyes. "You want me to spend Thanksgiving with you?" he asked, just to make sure that he had understood his friend correctly.

"Yeah. Sure. I really have a lot to be grateful for this year, and you, my friend, are at the top of the list."

He sniffed. It was all too much. "What about Genevieve?"

Jared shrugged. "Spending Thanksgiving with her own folks, and actually... I don’t really think she’s the one. I know it’s not nice to say, but she is pretty stupid..."

A snort escaped his throat. "Pretty much, yeah," he agreed.

"So, will you come home with me, man? Celebrate Thanksgiving à la Padalecki?"

He wanted to, so badly. Since he could remember, he hadn’t had Thanksgiving. Sam had invited him a few times, but he had always declined, always too proud and too ashamed at the same time. "Wouldn’t I intrude?"

Jared brushed it away. "Nah. Don’t worry. Thanksgiving dinner at my parents is a huge event. We invite friends and workmates, and just about everyone we get along with. You simply have to be a part of it, dude."

There was no reason to decline, not this year. He had stripped away his pride and had mostly lost his shame, and if Jared wanted him to be there and it was fine, then he wanted to be with Jared, whenever it was possible.

"I can’t wait to meet your folks, man." His smile matched Jared’s, and when he hugged his friend again, he really was sure that all but the two most important dreams of his life had just come true.

**Jared**

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Jared steered his car along the road that led to his parent’s estate. He was unbelievably tired. Because he hated flying so much, and John hadn’t seen much of the States except Vermont, Jared had suggested a road trip down to LA. It had been a fantastic experience, but, after countless hours in the car, he was wrecked, almost wishing he had taken the plane in spite of his silly fear.

Over one week ago, they had left their new homes on the farm. They had taken their time to drive to California, stopping here and there at scenic view points, seeing places they never had seen before. Before they had left, John had bought himself a camera, and he loved catching the sights and historic monuments, people and animals, on film. More often than he could count, Jared had beamed into the camera, glowing at how happy his friend was, having found a hobby that he not only really liked, but actually was tremendously good at.

As nice as it had been seeing all those places, with John gaping in awe when he had looked down into the Grand Canyon, it had been exhausting, too. With the renovations occupying most of their time, there hadn’t been enough spare time for John to take driving lessons yet, and driving the whole distance had really taken its toll on Jared. Now, at the end of their journey, his shoulders and long limbs were aching, and he couldn’t wait for a hot bath and for Cliff, his mom’s fitness trainer and masseur, to knead him thoroughly.

"Only a few more moments, John." Looking over to his friend, he saw the anxiety in his features, in the way he bit his lips, and wrinkled his forehead. He knew John was nervous about meeting his folks, but there was no need to be. His parents were looking forward to meeting John and would welcome him with open arms, Jared was sure of it. The help John had offered was enough for his parents to be kind and grateful, no matter what John had been in the past.

Jared didn’t expect a reply and didn’t get one anyways. Eventually, he turned right and into the driveway leading to the villa. The wall they had followed for a couple of hundred yards, separating property from public ground, ended, giving way to an impressively huge iron gate. Leaning out of the window, Jared punched in the six numbers of the security code, and watched the gate slowly open.

His friend stared. "That’s where you grew up?" John pressed out in awe.

"Em, yeah." Jared had to admit that the narrow street leading through the park looked pretty impressive, with all the flowerbeds fringing it, and, to John, who had never seen anything like this, it must have looked like a palace in a fairy tale.

When the house finally came into sight, John outright goggled, but then panic spread over his face. "How could you bring me here, Jay?" he whispered, scared. "You’re a fairy tale prince. How can you bring the poor beggar to your shiny castle?"

In other circumstances, Jared would have laughed at John, calling him Cinderella, but for John, it was deadly serious.

He didn’t steer the car towards the main entrance, but over to the garages, rolling it to a halt next to his brother’s Bentley. "I bring you here, because you’re my best friend. I bring you here, because I want you to be here and my parents want you to be here. Don’t go thinking that you’re not good enough for us. You are, John." He emphasized these last words, smiling genuinely at his friend. "You’re so much better than most of us together, except dear old Grandma Rose, god bless her soul. Please, man," Jared squeezed his friend’s biceps, "be our guest. It’s our honor to have you here, not the other way round."

He wasn’t sure if it had been enough to convince his friend that he was as welcome as everyone else, but there wasn’t any more time anyways, because when Jared glanced into the rear view mirror, he saw his mom and sister running towards his car.

Throwing a last, encouraging smile at John, Jared got out of the car and swept his sister into his arms.

**He**

The guest house he was staying at was bigger than Sam’s inn, and his "bedroom" was a suite bigger than Larkspur Cottage. A part of him still thought he was not good enough for all the luxury he was now surrounded by, but the other part of him was too excited about all the things he neither had seen nor ever dreamed about before.

There honestly was everything he could have wished for; from a fridge filled with delicacies he had never known even existed, to the most modern, expensive technological equipment, and the softest, most heavenly bed he had ever laid his body down on. The bathroom was a dream, too, with a gigantic whirlpool and a huge shower.

He had known that Jared’s folks and, Jared himself, weren’t exactly poor, but the unbelievable wealth he was confronted with overwhelmed him. Who’d had thought that John, the vagrant, would ever reside like this?

It seemed unfair that they had so much while so many others, he among them not even a year ago, had so little, but as soon as the thought crept into his mind, he hated himself for it.

Jared had told him his family’s story, and he knew the Padaleckis had had to work hard for all their wealth. Besides, every man was the architect of his own future - he himself had proved it now. Sure, he had been lucky, more than anything else, by being at the right place at the right time, but if he and Jared hadn’t become friends, if he hadn’t helped Jared like he had, he wouldn’t own half of the Padalecki farm right now, and he wouldn’t be looking to a future that looked brighter than he had ever expected.

Jared had told his parents and family about the gift during coffee, without much preamble. Both his parents had looked surprised, but, thankfully, they hadn’t questioned their son’s decision. Mrs. Padalecki had actually looked sort of pleased, congratulating him kindly and welcoming him into the business.

Someone was knocking at his door. He called out a ‘Yes’, certain that it was Jared, gaping stupidly when it was his friend’s mother who entered his room instead.

"Mrs. Padalecki."

She smiled. "Please, call me Sheri. You’re like family now, honey." She spoke with so much warmth in her voice, like he really was part of the family. It touched him deeply. "I just wanted to make sure you’re fine, dear."

"Thank you, Sheri." It felt strange, calling Jared’s mom like that; it was very familiar and intimate. "It’s perfect, but too much, too big. I’m not really used to it."

"Yeah, I know. Jared told us all about you."

He started to feel uncomfortable. He really didn’t want her pity, or to tell her about his past. His misery from then didn’t fit into this surrounding, it sort of stained it. "I’m good now. Thanks to Jared, I have a future. He helped me greatly." It really didn’t do Jared’s generosity justice, but it seemed to be enough for Sherri, who now looked sort of satisfied, even proud.

"Actually, that’s the other reason I came. I wanted to thank you, John." He still didn’t feel comfortable when people called him that, but with having more social contacts, with Jared calling him this, he had gotten used to it. He still dreamed of finding his real name one day but until then, John would do.

"Me? I didn’t do anything, Sherri."

"You did a lot, honey. Before Jared went to River’s End, he was a rascal; unsettled, and not having any aim in life."

He nodded. Jared had told him that much. "Yeah. Jay said he was the family loser."

Jared’s mother smiled sadly. "Yeah, he was. We loved him as much as any of our other kids, but he was the one we were worried about the most. By going to River’s End and rebuilding the farm, he finally assumed an obligation, and he did so very well. My husband and I know that plenty of it is your making. Sam Ferris told us more than once, and Jared, too. He thinks very highly of you, dear."

Dumbstruck, he looked at his best friend’s mother. This was too much praise. He hadn’t done anything... It had been Jared who had saved him, not the other way round, hadn’t it?

Then, he tried to see it from their point of view. Their son, loved but a disappointment, going to the middle of nowhere, returning changed, because he did not only achieve what he set out to do, but discovered a so far unknown part of him, hidden qualities that made his parents proud.

"He did much more for me than I did for him," he clarified, still feeling a little uncomfortable. This was quite a private conversation between two people who’d only met a few hours ago.

"Maybe. But we know our son, and he is quite a different man. A good man, John. And you brought that out in him."

"He had it in him all the time. And really, Sherri, I’d prefer to say that he saved me... and maybe, I saved him a little bit too, if you insist on it."

She laughed heartily, just like her son. "Yeah, I insist on it, dear. Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

**11**

**Jared**

John was looking outrageously good in his expensive suit, and wasn’t this a weird fact to notice about his friend? It fit perfectly, giving him a serious but still charming look, and Megan’s best friends, all huddled together in a bunch of drooling girls, obviously thought so, too. Too bad that John hadn’t been made for any of them.

Like so often, John had been coy about accepting Jared’s gift but, as always, the younger man had cleverly talked him into accepting the suit. As owner of the Padalecki Farm, he’d simply need one suit for business meetings, Jared had averred.

Shaking his head, John had laughed, but when he had looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t hide the appreciative, shining glance in his eyes and, in the end, he had accepted the present with a little smile and a much bigger hug.

Together, they were wandering through the huge banquet hall filled with countless people. There was close family and far removed cousins, friends with their spouses and kids, business partners, and neighbors. Valets carried trays of crystal goblets filled with the most exquisite champagne around and a band was playing soft music in the background.

After the quietness and normality of River’s End, the luxuriousness overwhelmed even Jared, and he couldn’t help thinking that his parents really loved to show off and that it was sort of embarrassing. A small, familiar Thanksgiving Dinner would have done just as well, too. What must John think of this?

He chanced a quick look at his friend. His eyes were moving from left to right, unsure where to look at, and the only sign that John really was nervous was his hand, tightly wrapped around his champagne glass like this kept him grounded. But actually he was doing very well, having even managed to wrap his jaundiced Aunt Sarah around his finger.

John would be fine. Jared just hoped that he’d get on well with Chad - and vice versa. Jared had a bad feeling that his oldest friend was jealous of the man who had taken his place, without even intending to, and that he’d give him a hard time. Chad wasn’t a bad person in general, but it’d be like him to certainly make it known to John how much he despised him for his past.

Slowly, searchingly, he let his eyes wander over the crowd. Neither Chad nor Jordan was to be seen but in the distance, he spotted Jeff Morgan. He hoped to have a word with him about  _Pieces of Me_ . He doubted that Jeff would be able, or willing, to tell him more about the man who had written the book, but he wanted to give it a try anyways.

"I just saw someone I want to talk to," Jared whispered into his friend’s ear. "The publisher of this book I once told you about. Want to come?"

The older man nodded. He knew no one here apart from Jared’s family and it was clear that he’d much rather stay with his friend than stroll through the room alone, making polite small talk with people he’d never seen before.

Deftly, Jared weaved his way through the crowd, nodding politely here, waving, or calling out a ‘Hi’ here and there. Finally, the stout man was in sight.

"That’s him." Jared pointed towards the man. "That’s Jeff Morgan."

The glass slipped out of John’s hand and fell onto the stone floor, splitting into a thousand little pieces. His friend looked like he had seen a ghost, his face losing all its color, his expression a mask of sheer terror.

"It’s him," John pressed out, his voice filled with the pain visible in his face, so palpable that Jared could feel it himself.

An ice cold hand was reaching out for Jared, the worry for his friend almost choking him. "What’s going on?" Concern and confusion dripped from his words. Jared was at a total loss here. Just a moment ago, his friend had been fine, and now he looked shattered and broken and in so much pain, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples, hard and strong, like he wanted to prevent his head from exploding.

"The man... of my past."

The words hit Jared but he didn’t have any time to really think about them because suddenly, several things happened at once.

John, groaning in pain, fell down onto his knees, writhing on the cold floor and, alarmed by the uproar, the people in their close surroundings turned around, staring at the young Padalecki and his friend.

One of them was Jeff. He was pale as a ghost as he stared at the man on the floor, tears streaming down his face that was contorted with pain.

"That can’t be," Jeff retched. "He’s dead. He’s dead." With panic in his eyes, the older man vanished into the crowd.

Jared wanted to stop Jeff, wanted to know what was going on here, but his friend, crying and moaning on the floor, was his priority. With blurred eyes wide open that weren’t focused on anything, John groaned in anguish, harsh breathing lifting his chest heavily.

Panic spread in Jared’s chest. What was going on here? What was wrong with his friend?

"John? John!!" he screamed.

**Jensen**

Pain like he had never felt before seared through his head, and he was sure that in the next moments his head would explode. Picture after picture of his past flooded through his mind; so many that he couldn’t grasp, couldn’t process them. It was overwhelming and scary, getting all the long missed information back, and he knew that he was wailing like a baby and moaning like a dying man because, somehow, all the pain and fear and joy had to get out.

From far, far away, he could hear Jared’s voice, but he didn’t really understand him. Right now, with the all-consuming pain stabbing his head like a thousand needles, he only knew two things: He knew who he was, and he knew that the bearded man had been responsible for what had happened to him.

He remembered.

"John?? John!!!" Jared sounded panicked, and his friend’s huge hand was brushing over his body, over his racing heart, and his tear-stained face.

Maybe, if he concentrated real hard, he could tell Jared, and make sure that Jeff could never hurt him again.

As if it was the hardest thing ever, he opened his lips a little, but instead another painful moan escaped his throat.

He pulled himself together. It was vital that he did this, his life probably depended on it. "Stop... him," he pressed out in pain. "Stop... Jeff."

Still so far away, he could hear Jared calling for help, for someone to stop Jeff Morgan, and he could only guess that the banquet hall was in uproar, with people screaming and wondering what was going on.

He, though, didn’t have enough strength to worry about this. He felt himself gliding away into darkness, his body suddenly feeling strangely weightless, and, desperately, he held on to the only thing, the only memory, that really counted.

_I’m Jensen_ .

***

He was cocooned by warmth and softness and he felt a dull pain throughout his whole body. And something else. A hand was holding his; it was strong but soft, anchoring him. He knew that hand. It was capable of so many things; building houses, cutting roses, picking apples, but the way it was now, it was his favorite. He was safe. If this hand was holding his, if Jared was by his side, he didn’t need to worry.

"John?" Jared asked softy, his hand now brushing over his skin.

He wasn’t John.

He smiled. "I’m Jensen," he breathed out, slowly and painfully opening his eyes.

**Jared**

"I’m Jensen."

The same green eyes were looking at him, but something had changed in them. Jared had never known what had been missing, but now there was something else he had never seen there before. Maybe it was knowledge, or wisdom, or just what everyone had; memories, experiences, a past they could remember.

Jensen. An unusual name for an extraordinary man.

He had thought this once before... Wait. Could it be? Could his friend and the anonymous writer be the same person? Was it this that connected him and Jeff Morgan?

Jared wanted to know but he had plenty of time. All that mattered right now was that his friend - Jensen - had his identity back. Gripping his hand tighter, Jared smiled. "Hey man, you scared the shit out of me. Out of all of us, actually. But you’ll be fine."

"Did you catch him?" Each word was spoken with a lot of effort and it was obvious that the older man was absolutely wrecked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Jeff? No, I’m sorry, man. We called the cops, though. A detective would like to talk to you as soon as you’re better. I’ll tell her she can see you tomorrow. You need rest, my friend."

Weakly, his friend shook his head. "No. Want to talk to them. Need to tell them my story." The tip of Jensen’s tongue moistened his dry lips.

"Okay." Jared agreed with a heavy heart. He was sure his friend wasn’t fit for it yet. "But first, let me get you something to drink." Carefully, Jared took the glass of water his mom had put there earlier and pressed it against Jensen’s lips.

The older man drank greedily, spilling a few drops. Gently, Jared wiped them away with his thumb.

"Do you want me to stay while Detective Gamble questions you? Do you want me to hear your story?”

Jensen’s lips formed a little smile, but it was strangely sad, almost regretful. "You already know it, Jay. You read my book."

***

Taking in each word, Jared listened in horror and awe to his best friend’s life’s story. It was like re-reading  _Pieces of Me_ again, but much more emotional.

The young detective was very patient, listening to everything Jensen told her, not caring that most of it wasn’t really part of her new case. "So, Jensen," the detective asked eventually, "what happened when the book was published?"

"I was better." Jensen swallowed hard, the emotions visible in his tortured face. "For the first time in years, I had some money and a perspective. I had talked to a shrink and, as the months passed, I wasn’t apathetic and depressed like before. I wasn’t suicidal any longer. I came out of my shell, had a tiny apartment and hung out with my friends, Chris and Steve. It was easier to see pride instead of pity in their eyes. Then, one day in late August, Jeff came. He lured me out, saying that he wanted to celebrate the success of my book. It was all false pretense." Jensen shuddered and Jared couldn’t help it, he just had to reach out his hand and squeeze his friend’s, for strength and encouragement. He didn’t let go and Jared saw the gratitude for the little gesture in his Jensen’s green, teary eyes. "He brought me to a cabin. He tried... to seduce me and when I refused, Jeff beat me. Often. Called me names. Said I was scum and I owed him for publishing my book and for pulling me out of the gutter where I belonged. I tried to defend myself but he was so much stronger than I. I didn’t have a chance. He..."

Jared cut his friend off, looking at Detective Gamble pleadingly. This was sickening and heartbreaking, and he really couldn’t bear to see Jensen suffer any longer. "Please, Detective, do we really have to go through this?"

Sympathy shone in her eyes. "I know it’s hard, Jared, but yes. I need Jensen’s complete evidence. I’m sorry," she said, more to Jensen than to Jared.

"It’s okay," Jensen whispered weakly. "I know you’re just doing your job."

"So, what happened, Jensen?" Her voice was uncommonly gentle.

"He raped me." It was barely a whisper, but Jensen’s eyes were full of the terror he had experienced. "Again and again. He locked me into his cellar. It was wet, with water dripping down the walls, and there... there were rats. They bit me." More tears were streaming down the older man’s face, and only now did Jared notice that his own eyes were filled with moisture, too. He was appalled. Never would he have thought that Jeff, a man he had known for most of his life, would be capable of doing something like this. But he didn’t doubt it, not one tiny bit. The horror Jensen had gone through was palpable, real. Jared could almost smell the moist, moldy cell his friend had been kept prisoner in, could feel the rat’s sharp teeth biting Jensen’s vulnerable skin. "One night, weeks or months later, I cant’ tell, I managed to escape. I took the old cloak and the tattered copy of my book that was lying in the hallway and sneaked out of the cabin. But I was too slow. I could barely walk, and each step hurt like hell. It was ice-cold and so dark outside, with just a canopy of tree crowns and no moon to be seen." Jensen sniffed while rubbing his eyes. "I stumbled and fell. I didn’t have a chance, as weak as I was. Jeff found me. He beat the crap out of me. I was sure he’d kill me and, soon enough, I lost consciousness. What happened next, I don’t know." His face was a mask of pure terror and, only slowly, he seemed to relax, each stroke of Jared’s fingers helping him with it.

"Luckily, he didn’t succeed, Jensen," Detective Gamble noted. "Thanks for telling me all this. We’ll do everything we can to find Jeffrey Morgan. I’ll let you know as soon as I have news."

With a last ‘thank you and good luck’, she was gone, leaving Jared and Jensen alone.

Jared didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure what he could do. It was overwhelming. John, the shy, reserved vagrant that had become his best friend, was Jensen, the broken man he had read about. And after he had written his heartbreaking book, he had to endure so much more pain?

"Jensen, I..." Not able to find any words that didn’t sound clumsy, he sealed his lips shut.

Unwaveringly, the older man smiled at him. "It’s okay, Jay. Don’t worry about me. I’m good." A tear ran down Jensen’s cheek.

What a bad liar he was.

Without even thinking twice about it, Jared stripped off his shoes, and crawled into bed with Jensen.

Too weak and too tired to fight with words or gestures, Jensen let himself be enveloped by Jared’s arms and body.

"Shhh," Jared soothed him. "Nothing is okay, but it will be, I promise. I’ll take care of you."

"Sap." Jensen sniffed, nevertheless burying his head into his friend’s shoulder.

"Yeah, I know, I can be like this." Gently, Jared brushed his lips over his friend’s forehead, holding him a little tighter, a little closer. "Now sleep, my friend. I’m here."

"Thank you, Jay." Another sniff.

"Aww, nothing to thank me for. That’s what friends are for. Just sleep."

**Jensen**

He slept dreamlessly. Maybe it was the remains of the sedative the doctor had given him, or maybe it was Jared’s warm body wrapped around his, but it was a good, deep sleep, chasing away the pain in his body and in his heart.

Waking up was beautiful with Jared snuggled close, his long arm looped around his waist, his kind hazel eyes searching his face for any hint of his state.

"Morning," Jared whispered. "How’re you feeling, man?"

Jensen thought about this question thoroughly. How was he feeling? He knew who he was, he had found his past again, and even though it was mostly filled with horrifying memories, that’s what they were: memories. Not his present or future, but his past, and he couldn’t change it anyways. Where he was right now, that was okay. His best friend whom he loved so much that it hurt, was holding him, showering him with more love and affection he would have ever believed could exist. He was good. "I’m good, Jay."

A doubtful frown appeared on Jared’s forehead.

"Really. I’m good. No headache, and no pain in my bones anymore. You’re with me."

The frown melted away, and was replaced by a sweet, little smile. The arm that lay curled around him moved upwards, Jared’s hand gently brushing over Jensen’s back.

Never before had Jensen been touched like this, never. He knew that now. Never before had someone given him so much love and kindness, not even his mom who had loved him so much.

For a long time, Jared just held him wordlessly. The air between them sparkled, but Jensen wasn’t sure if Jared even noticed it. He was half-asleep, caressing him, not minding his past, not minding that he was gay.

"Jensen," Jared said thoughtfully, his name sounding unusual but oh so caring coming from Jared’s lips. "An unusual name for the most unusual man I know. It fits you, my friend. So much better than John. Does it feel like you?!

Tears tickled his eyes again as he remembered their conversation from way back when they met and how much he had been longing to know who he was then. Now, as he knew, Jensen had to agree with his friend. The name fit. Perfectly. "It feels like me. Like  _all_ of me," Jensen sniffed. What a sentimental wuss he was. "Like I’m finally complete. Thanks for helping me find it."

"Nah. It was all in you. I just brought you to the trigger."

Jensen shuddered, thinking about the man who had done those evil things to him. "Do you think they’ll find Jeff?"

"I hope so. I want to see him pay for what he did to you."

Jensen wanted to see Jeff behind bars, too, but a tiny part of him was grateful. Without this, he never would have met Jared, and never would have felt like he was in heaven, like he was right now.

**Jared**

The tattered book was barely a weight in his hand, the many bends scratching his fingertips whenever he absentmindedly brushed his fingers over them.

Pensively, Jared let his glance wander over his childhood bedroom, with all the toys he’d had to play with when he was a kid. Some were as good as new, barely used because something else had replaced it after only a couple of weeks, like all his interests had been replaced one after another. Horseback riding, tennis or diving, football or baseball, piano lessons or drawing lessons; there had been nothing Jared hadn’t been able to learn, and if he was fed up with one lesson, his parents had paid for another.

Looking back now, Jared realized that he had been a spoiled brat, demanding so much, and always getting what he wanted, mostly sooner rather than later. Thinking of all his little and big tantrums, the way he sometimes had behaved, like back in Switzerland when he had caused nothing but trouble just to be sent home again, made him blush with embarrassment.

Especially when he held the book in his hand; a real story that showed that life could be so much different than his had been, full of deprivation and fear.

Swallowing hard, Jared took his eyes off the half dozen Game Boys lying on a shelf and looked at the paperback in his hand instead. He still couldn’t quite believe that the man that had written this book was his John. That John was Jensen, and that the broken man from back then was his best friend now, still shy and reserved with strangers, but full of laughter and joy and kindness for the people he knew.

Almost reverently, Jared opened the book, skimming to the very end, to the place where the page was missing, and where Jensen’s name was looking at him. Could it be? Could the missing piece Jensen had been carrying around for years be from this very book? How big a coincidence would that be?

A shudder ran through the young man when he wondered if it had been coincidence, or something else, maybe fate, that had him find this book and find Jensen. Realizing that he’d never find an answer anyways, he shook the thought off, concentrating on  _Pieces of Me_ again.

How fitting the title was. Jensen had been shattered into thousand little pieces again and again, whenever he had been hurt or treated like scum. But he had managed to pick each piece up, one by one, and even though he had been longing for death, in the end, Jensen was so much stronger than he had thought.

Jared skimmed through the book, reading passages and bits here and there, the lump in his throat and the hole in his belly getting bigger and bigger with every heartbreaking paragraph.

How Jensen’s life had changed when his dad died and his mom eventually came home with a new husband, the man that would become Jensen’s torturer by abusing him with words and fists.

How Jensen had run away for the first time at the young age of 11, living on the streets for a few weeks until the cops had found him. He had been searching through garbage bins for something edible, had been affronted as a stinking, dirty rat, but the life still had been better than being tormented day in, day out.

How, eventually, after hearing that he was less than a cockroach, Jensen had believed it. The depression had started, leading to the first suicide attempt, unsuccessful because he hadn’t cut deep enough.

Him being locked into a psychiatric ward, but no one really helping him, and Jensen finally running away for good once he had been released, leaving his Texan home town and tramping north until he had come to Boston, where his life had been a steady up and down.

Eventually, Jared couldn’t read any longer because his eyes were too blurred with his tears, and when he moved, his limbs stiff and his body rigid, he saw Jensen leaning in the door frame, looking at him oddly.

"Jensen." Jared sniffed. "I’m... How long..."

He shrugged. "Long enough."

Jensen came closer, sitting down next to Jared, gently taking the book away from him. "Want to talk about it?" Jensen asked as he pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and gave it to his friend.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that?" Jared murmured while blowing his nose.

"Nah... I talked to a shrink, remember? I’m... well, not good, but it’s my past... I accepted it back then and I will accept it now. I can’t change it. But you, Jay... you’re my best friend, and while a part of me is ashamed that you know the worst of me, the other is glad that you do. Things like this... shouldn’t stand between us."

"Thank you." There were a lot of questions running through Jared’s mind, but he didn’t want to ask them right away. The only thing Jared wanted to do was to feel his friend and be as close to Jensen as possible.

He did just that, enfolded Jensen in his arms and held on tight, breathing him in, feeling his hair tickle his face.

"I’m glad you’re here," Jared simply said, and he knew it was enough.

***

Later, when they were lying side by side in Jensen’s bed, darkness and each other’s warmth encasing them, Jared was ready to ask his questions.

"Why did your mom let this happen to you, Jen?"

His friend didn’t say anything for a long time, and Jared feared that he had gone too far with his first question, but, eventually, Jensen answered. "I’ve been wondering that myself, Jay. She loved me, I know she did. She often protected me, by catching the fists that were meant for me. But there was also my sister, still a little girl, and she had to think of Mac."

Jared understood, but what he didn’t understand was why she stayed with her new husband. "Why didn’t your mom just grab you and your sister and leave that asshole?"

"I don’t know. But I think she was scared. She had no one; no family, no friends, and he... he was a respectable man, or at least, that’s what people thought of him. No one would have believed her."

Jared still didn’t get how a mother could tolerate her husband abusing her own flesh and blood, but he decided to not dig any further, asking something else he had never really understood since he had read the book for the first time. "Why didn’t you accept Chris’ and Steve’s help? They offered you a home and...".

He heard the sheets rustling and Jensen sliding a little closer, and in the semi darkness Jared could see his friend looking at him intensely. "I was sick, Jared. People told me I was nothing and I believed it, no matter what Chris and Steve said. I was unworthy of their friendship and help. That’s why I didn’t accept it. It was the same when we met. Remember the glasses? Or Sam’s kindness? If people tell you again and again that you’re worthless and less than the dirt beneath their boots, you start to believe it."

Jared felt tears stinging his eyes when he remembered the first time he had seen Jensen, his own repulsion to touch him, and the fear to catch bugs or a sickness.

A gentle hand brushed over his face. "Hey. I don’t blame you, Jay, for having been prejudiced and repulsed. I was in a horrible state."

"I blame myself," Jared admitted, unable to look at Jensen’s kind face.

"You made it up, Jay. Ten thousand times." Jensen slid even closer, pressing his forehead against Jared’s, and this made Jared happy and sad at the same time.

"Can I ask you something else?" Jared asked as he tugged Jensen against his body, making sure that he was safely snuggled against him. He needed this now, this closeness, this knowledge that his best friend was there, unharmed, and hopefully as happy as he could be.

"Sure."

"You wrote about death, how much you were longing for it, that you tried twice to..." Talking about this tightened Jared’s chest but he had to know, he had to make sure that his friend was safe and that all those dark thoughts were gone for good. "What changed your mind?"

"I think the flame of hope inside me never really died, Jay," Jensen said quietly. "Deep, deep down, I never gave up hoping for things to get better, for the wheel of fortune to turn. It gave me the strength to carry on, even when Jeff did all those horrible things to me."

Jared couldn’t help but admire his best friend. He was so much tougher and stronger than he knew he was, much braver than Jared himself ever had been.

"And now, Jen? Do you still want to die?" He whispered the question and held his breath, his heart hammering heavily against his chest, scared of the answer, and scared that he still might lose his best friend.

"No," Jensen whispered, his breath caressing Jared’s neck. "I don’t want to die any longer. I want to live.

**12**

**Jensen**

They were just a few miles outside of River’s End when Jensen’s cell started ringing. He wasn’t really expecting a call - Jared was normally the only man who called him and he was driving the car - and he was far too tired for a chit-chat anyways, but his curiosity was piqued. Who’d call him? Barely anyone had his number.

"Hello?" he answered.

_"Jensen, this is Detective Gamble. Where are you?"_

"Driving home to River’s End. Why?"

The woman on the other end of the line hesitated a moment.  _"I don’t want to scare you, Jensen, but Morgan was seen in Burlington. We think that he might be coming after you."_ Jensen felt his heart skip a beat and fear take hold of him.

"What can I do?" He heard the tremble in his voice and it was this and his scared tone that made Jared take his eyes off the road for a moment and look at him, eyes big with questions.

_"Not much, honestly. Just don’t go outside on your own and, if possible, stay somewhere safe. Do you have such a place?"_

Feverishly, Jensen thought about a refuge. So far, Orchard House and the farm had been his safe haven, but of course Jeff, as a friend of the Padaleckis, knew of it. Sure, there was the inn, and Sam would take them in without hesitation, but the thought of possibly endangering her made Jensen really uncomfortable. "Not sure," he breathed out. "Maybe Sam Ferris’ inn."

_"Yeah, that’s good. Public place. He might hesitate to go in there, and the FBI can station their man there."_

"The FBI?" Jensen gaped in surprise.

_"Yeah, I’m not sure I should tell you on the phone but,"_ she warned before she paused for a moment,  _"we found substantial evidence that Jeffery Morgan murdered two men, both authors like you who went missing after their books were published at Morgan’s."_

If all his color hadn’t already drained away before, it happened now. "Oh god," Jensen pressed out, and Jared, who had been listening attentively, threw another look at him, now worried and confused.

_"Yeah. I know it’s horrible. But thanks to you, we can catch him now. The Agent’s name is Sheppard. You can trust him. I’ll send you a photo so you know what he looks like. But please, Jensen, stay alert and, um, don’t play the hero. And tell Jared the same. Good luck."_

"Thanks, Detective. Good luck to you, too."

Only as he disconnected the call did Jensen notice that his hand was trembling heavily, the cell almost sliding out of his sweaty palm.

"Jensen? What’s wrong?" Jared asked worriedly.

He took a deep breath. "Morgan’s in the area. They think... they think he’ll come for me, Jay."

**Jared**

It had been a week since they returned to River’s End, a week of worry and paranoia, of troubled days and restless nights.

Without hesitation, Sam had welcomed them into her inn, had given them one of the standard double rooms, not questioning it when Jared had insisted that he’d share his room with Jensen until Morgan was caught, no matter how long it took.

With tears blurring her eyes, she then had listened to Jensen’s story, hugging him motherly once he was done, promising that she’d protect and support them as best as she could.

Living in the constant fear that Morgan would catch them before the police and FBI caught Morgan, their nerves were on edge. Weirdly though, it was Jared who was more worried, who startled at every tiny scratch, who looked over his shoulder whenever he and Jensen walked through the streets, and who slept with a gun under his pillow.

It was his, and he had a license for it. Jared had bought it years ago when he had moved into his apartment and the neighborhood had been shaken by a series of armed robberies with several casualties. He wasn’t a good shot, and luckily he had never had to use it, but Jared felt safer with having something to defend himself and Jensen with.

Jensen was already sleeping, the strain taking its toll, when someone knocked at the door.

He startled, quietly sneaking over to the door. "Yeah. Who is it?"

"Agent Sheppard." Jared identified the man thanks to his accent. "Can you please let me in?"

Still alert, Jared unlocked the door, opening it only a little gap. The agent was alone.

"Good news," Sheppard explained without any preamble. "Morgan’s left the area. Several sources have informed the FBI that he was seen in Boston this morning. I’ll follow him down there. The Sheriff will keep an eye on you, but you should be fine."

Jared wanted to believe it so badly, but he was doubtful. Why should Morgan give up, having not even tried to get to them. "You sure?" It was only two words but they dripped with doubt.

"Positive. I’ll call if I hear anything else. Take care."

As quickly as he had arrived, Agent Sheppard was gone, leaving Jared in a weird maelstrom of doubt and relief.

***

"It’s been three days," Jensen declared. "Agent Sheppard’s called us again to tell us that Morgan is in the Boston area. I think it’s safe to return home, Jay. I miss the farm."

Jared understood. He missed the farm too, and as much as he loved Jensen, they were really spending the whole day together at the moment, and sometimes, the atmosphere between them was a little tense. This was probably only natural, with the situation as it was, the anxiety and threat hanging between them like a heavy storm cloud.

"Yeah, me too. How about tomorrow? And I’d feel better if you’d stay at Orchard House, man."

Jensen sighed in frustration. "Look, man, I know you’re worried about me, but I don’t think it’s necessary."

Everything inside Jared screamed to argue, but Jensen was grown up. He had endured so much and he had the right to stay on his own if he wanted to. "Okay. But remember that you can come over anytime if you want to. That’s why I gave you the key."

Jensen laughed. "To protect me from psycho nutjobs?"

"Jerk." Jared forced a smile on his lips but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. "To welcome you at my place."

***

His comfortable bed felt as hard as a board and, no matter in which position Jared lay, he couldn’t fall asleep.

He knew he was being unreasonable. All the doors were locked, the windows were barred with wooden shutters, and the super expensive alarm system was engaged. But it wasn’t so much his own life he was worried about, but Jensen’s. He just didn’t like the thought that his friend was sleeping alone in his empty house, by far not as well protected as Jared was.

Pricking his ears, he listened for anything unusual.

There was nothing.

There was only the sounds of a car on the road rushing by, the wind whispering through the currently leafless apple trees, an owl hooting, another answering. There was nothing else but the night and shadows seeping through the tiny gap where the shutters met. If there was a moon, it was covered by clouds, possibly bringing the first snow with them.

Eventually, Jared gave up hope for sleep and got up. He wrapped himself in a woolen blanket and moved downstairs and into the library filled with Grandma Rose’s valuable collection, row after row of books on dark mahogany shelves. An antique desk dominated the room and, on it, Jared had put the gun and a flashlight. Just in case.

He looked through the collection, finding a first edition of "The Hobbit". As a kid, he had loved the book and, reverently, he opened the old pages, and started to read.

A noise pulled him out of Bilbo’s adventure. It was barely there, but it sounded different than all the other nightly noises.

He listened more carefully.

Definitely. It was the sound of boots whispering over the graveled paths that led through the whole farm. Jared had wanted to pave them but Jensen had said that gravel was so much nicer and more natural and, in the end, the older man had gotten his will.

As quietly as possible, Jared got up, moved to the desk, and took up the weapon and flashlight.

He listened again.

Whoever it was, they were still sneaking around the house. This definitely ruled Jensen out, because he’d just disarm the alarm system and unlock the door.

Was it a robber? Or a tramp, like Jensen had been when he was still John, looking for a place to sleep, and not knowing that the farm was lived-in again. Or was it Morgan?

On tip toes, Jared moved over to the window, and peered through the small gap. There was nothing, just the darkest night.

He waited patiently and, eventually, he was rewarded. A cone of light grazed the window for a glimpse of an eye before it was gone, the footsteps fading away, too.

It might mean nothing but he was too scared, too alert to let it go, and with light and gun still in his hand, Jared moved back into the dimly lit hallway where he had put his mobile. Jensen might laugh his head off about his paranoid friend but he just had to inform him.

A short dial later, he heard the older man’s voice - on his voicemail.

"Shit," Jared breathed out.

Without hesitation, Jared stripped on his boots, threw his jacket over his shoulder, and unlocked the door. The night was cold, smelling of snow, and the darkness enveloped him the second he took a step forward.

He didn’t hear a thing. Wherever the footsteps had wandered off, they weren’t nearby any longer.

He turned on the flashlight, dampening the light as much as possible. After spending so many days on this farm, Jared knew his way around anyways.

Swiftly but still quietly, he moved through the orchard. It was beautiful in daylight but, Jared had to admit, now, in the darkest hours of the night, it was sort of creepy: naked, gnarled branches reaching out everywhere, tiny nocturnal animals scurrying through the grass, the wind whispering through the twigs, tearing on the last resistant leaves. Dead branches and leaves creaked and groaned under his heavy boots and the little natural light threw grotesque shadows over the dark ground.

The way through the orchard wasn’t exactly a shortcut but, if the man really was Morgan, Jared had the advantage of knowing the farm inside out, knowing exactly where he could find Jensen, other than Morgan, who had never been on the farm and didn’t know his way around.

Nevertheless, Jared quickened his pace, almost stumbling over a root sticking out of the ground. Biting his lip, he swallowed down a curse, and tasted a little blood in his mouth. He ignored it.

Finally, he reached the tiny wooden fence that fringed Larkspur’s Cottage garden. He climbed over it, thanking all known gods that the bushes that grew there were still too small to hinder him in his moves.

He could see a light shimmering through one of the windows – the shutters not closed like Jared had begged Jensen to do.

Hopefully, Jensen was just as restless as he was.

Pausing for a moment, Jared listened.

There was nothing.

Regardless, he sneaked closer, with all his senses alert. Finally, he could spot the front side of the house, and his heart skipped a beat when he noticed that the door was wide open. Jensen would never have been that careless.

Everything inside Jared pulled him towards where his friend might be in desperate need of help, but he knew it was vital not to rush it. Still, as quietly as possible, he moved forward, listening in between steps.

Having almost reached the house, Jared finally could hear something. A voice. Snarling. Spitting. Simply evil and full of hate. He had known this voice for a very long time, but now he’d silence it forever if he had to.

Pausing again, Jared released the gun’s safety. Just in case.

An evil laugh was booming through the little house. "You useless wuss!" Jeff scorned Jensen. "You really think that this house and half of the farm can change who you really are? You’re nothing!!! Less than scum!!!"

Jared’s stomach knotted painfully at hearing the hate dripping from Morgan’s words. But this was exactly what he needed; Morgan angry and too furious to listen and to be alert.

Quiet as a church mouse, Jared moved through the open door. The light was coming from Jensen’s bedroom, and this was where Morgan’s next laugh led him to; the vicious answer to a scared whimper.

Morgan hadn’t even bothered to close the door and, in the soft light, Jared could see enough to encase his heart with ice and fear. Jeff had pushed his friend against a wall, and a long, shiny knife was pressed against Jensen’s throat. Tiny blood drops were dripping onto his plaid pajama shirt, just as the tears that were running down his face and there was pure terror in Jensen’s eyes.

"Let him go!" Jared demanded, his voice sounding strong and more convincing that he had ever expected, though his hand was trembling.

Morgan didn’t even turn around. "Oh no, I won’t." He pressed the knife a little deeper into Jensen’s skin, luring an unbelievably pitiful sound out of Jensen’s throat.

"Oh yes. You will. Let. Him. Go. I’ll shoot you, if you don’t."

The older man laughed devilishly. "I’ve known you all my life, Jared. You are too chicken-shit to shoot a man in the back. Mommy raised you well," he spat out in disgust. "You don’t have the guts to shoot. After all, you’re the family loser!" he snarled. "Say bye-bye to your pretty boyfriend."

Jared shot.

The sound was deafening, and the howl of surprise, pain and anger when the bullet hit its aim was almost as loud.

The knife glided out of the man’s hand and Morgan fell down.

Gun still in his hand, Jared rushed closer.

Morgan was writhing on the floor, the same way as Jensen had when his memory had returned.

Jensen was still standing upright, leaning heavily against the wall, breathing hard, his face as white as a sheet.

In an instant, Jared was with him, wrapping him into his arms, pressing Jensen’s face against his chest.

_He is safe. Jensen is safe. Nothing happened to him_ , he thought again and again.

The older man shivered like a leaf, his legs on the verge of giving in. Jared didn’t feel much better when the truth of what he’d done sank in, but he had to be strong, for his best friend.

Still holding Jensen, Jared called 911, explaining what had happened with a shaking voice.

Then he guided Jensen back to his bed. He wasn’t really responsive, still traumatized from what had happened. With careful, gentle movements, Jared tucked him in, using warmth against the shock, squeezing his hand once that was done.

Only once Jared was sure that Jensen was safe, did he deign to look at Morgan. There was a lot of blood, he had lost consciousness, and was only breathing shallowly.

The devil in Jared wanted the bastard to die. Jeff didn’t deserve anything better. But he wasn’t God, he wasn’t the judge over life and death. Besides, it was essential that he survived. Jeff could give evidence to what he had done, bringing light to the case the FBI had on him.

He hurried over to Jensen’s bathroom where he kept the first aid kit, and provided Morgan with the little help he could. There was a pulse, but it was weak, and as far as he saw with all the blood staining Morgan’s clothes, there was no exit wound. He bandaged the hole the bullet had torn in the man’s back as well as possible, threw a blanket over him, and concentrated on Jensen once that was done.

Thankfully the thin cut on his throat had stopped bleeding, but Jared attended to it carefully, putting antiseptic and a bandage on it. His body shaken by silent tears, Jensen let Jared take care of him almost apathetically.

"I’ve got you, Jen," Jared whispered as he finally joined him in bed. "I’ve got you."

***

Jared couldn’t tell how long it had taken for the cops and ambulance to arrive, but eventually they were there; paramedics attending to Morgan, who was still alive, if only barely; police officers securing evidence, and others questioning him and Jensen.

Jensen was still heavily distressed, but, without hesitation, he followed an officer into the living-room, explaining what had happened while Jared did the same.

"Do I have to call my lawyer?" Jared asked after he had told his story. He knew it had been necessary; Morgan threatening Jensen with the knife, having already hurt him, but, nevertheless, he had shot a man.

The officer didn’t answer, leaving Jared alone with his troubled thoughts. Only after what seemed like hours, he came back. "You can go. Please don’t leave the state, but your evidence matches Mr. Ackles’ evidence exactly, and we’ve called the FBI and Detective Gamble confirmed the background story. You didn’t have a choice, did you?"

Once, his mom had said that there was always a choice, and for a long time, Jared had believed it, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. The situation had been pretty much desperate. "No." He put all his conviction in it. "I told you what Morgan said. He had already hurt him with a knife. He would’ve have killed Jensen if I hadn’t shot him."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

**Jensen**

Jensen felt like he was literally standing beside him, watching everything that happened from an outsider’s point of view. It had started with Morgan breaking into his house and, even now, as Jared led him to Orchard House, with the cold November night creeping through his clothes, it wasn’t gone. It had just been too shocking and too disturbing, shattering him deeply: Jeff had wanted to kill him and Jared... he had shot Jeff to save him. Without hesitation, Jared had made this life-changing decision because he wanted to keep his promise.

He had to snap out of it. He knew he was scaring Jared by not saying a word and staring through him, not looking at him.

His friend’s hand was a warm weight in his own. It grounded him. It felt good, like it always did when Jared touched him.

He gave it a little squeeze.

Jared squeezed back.

Finally, Jensen could see Orchard House in the early dawn.

Still not saying a word, because there was probably nothing to say, Jared opened and locked the door and led him upstairs into his bedroom. He helped him out of his jacket and shoes, like he had helped him into them and, gently, Jared pushed him onto the mattress.

Then, Jared stripped off his own jacket and, suddenly, Teddy appeared. He must have taken him while Jensen had talked to the paramedic who had injected him a light sedative. It lured the first reaction out of him, next to tears, a barely there upwards movement of his lips.

Not leaving the teddy bear out of his sight, he saw Jared kicking off his boots and changing his bloody pajama pants for fresh ones. Then, his friend was with him, almost blanketing him, Teddy tightly pressed against both of their chests.

"You’re not alone, Jen."

Jared held him until he fell asleep.

**Jared**

Jared was worried about his friend. Three days had passed since the attack, and in every hour of the day, Jared saw Jensen quiet and thoughtful, barely talking, barely eating, and sometimes even close to tears. Jensen was still sharing his bed, and from the moans, sighs, and whimpers that escaped his chapped lips, Jared could only guess that his friend was haunted by nightmares, only relaxing slightly when Jared talked to him quietly, wiping his sweaty forehead or wrapping him into his arms.

Only reluctantly, Jensen had joined him to fetch some of his belongings from Larkspur Cottage, and with eyes still full with terror, he had refused to go but one step into his bedroom where the smell of Jeff’s blood still lingered in the air and the wooden boards were stained with it forever. Jared hoped it might be better once the floor was replaced with a new one, but he wasn’t sure if that was enough to chase the horror of the night away.

"Jen?" Jared said quietly, stepping closer to his friend. Wrapped into a blanket, Jensen was standing in front of the window, staring out into the orchard absentmindedly.

He carried two cups of strong, black tea with a bit of rum, offering one to his friend wordlessly.

Not taking his eyes away from the naked apple trees, Jensen took it, pressing his palms against the hot mug, not even scrunching his face when the heat became uncomfortable and almost burned his hands.

Quietly, Jared stood next to his friend, sipping his own tea while watching the sleeping orchard, hoping that his friend might find solace with his silent presence.

He wasn’t sure if it helped, but eventually Jensen guided the mug to his lips, drinking his tea and, when he had emptied it, Jensen didn’t protest when Jared cupped his hands with his own. Even though they had clung to the hot mug for minutes, they were cold, and Jared massaged them gently, putting warmth back into the fingers and finally, for the first time in days, a little smile on his friend’s face.

"I was so scared, Jay." His voice sounded raw, unused and broken. "I thought that was it... It’s weird. For years I longed for that moment, of finally dying, and when it was so close, I was so scared. Of never seeing you and Sam again, and of leaving you behind and..." A single tear slipped down his pale, freckled cheek.

"Shh," Jared comforted him. What else could he say when his heart was on the verge of breaking for his friend and at the same time was swelling with the love he felt for the man.

"What if you hadn’t come, Jay?" Jensen breathed out, shuddering with the knowledge of what would have happened if Jared had ignored the bad feeling in his gut.

"Don’t you think about it, Jen," he whispered. "I came. I was there."

"You saved my life, Jay."

Jared knew he had. But for him, it wasn’t such a big deal. It wasn’t that it occupied his mind over and over again, or made him all proud and the brave prince in shiny armor. "That’s what friends are for, Jen. I know you would have done the same."

**Jensen**

Again, Jensen relived in his dream what had happened, and, like almost every night since the incident, he woke up, gasping and sweating, but safely wrapped in Jared’s arms. His pitiful moans must have woken his friend sometime during the night and Jared had given him the best comfort he could give; actions, not words.

Now, Jared was thankfully slumbering peacefully, the moonlight coating his face in silver, making his features soft and look even younger than he was.

God, he loved Jared so much that he thought his heart might force open his chest one day soon, it growing with all the love he felt for him.

Jared had saved his life... He had shot a man for him, had risked his own salvation to give him a future. Could there be a bigger proof of love?

Jensen doubted it.

But what could he do with that knowledge? Should he just ignore it and let Jared live his life, or should he finally tell him? He had never wanted to, because Jared had never indicated that he might be into men, but with what had happened, things were different, weren’t they?

Jared’s tears when he had read in his book, the way Jared had held him when they had talked about his past, and the way he had been since the attack, with all his thoughts on him, so worried and attentive. Every touch gentle, every look worried and full with affection... There must be more on Jared’s side than friendship, too. Otherwise, he would never do this, hold him like this, or protect him like this, like he was the most precious thing Jared had.

"Do you love me, too?" Jensen whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t understand it himself.

Jared sighed a little in his sleep, snuggling closer.

It was all the answer Jensen needed.

***

"You look better," Jared stated in the morning, and it was true. After Jensen had made up his mind to do something concerning his feelings for his friend, he had fallen asleep again. For the first time in days, he hadn’t dreamed, and when he had woken up, he had felt good, almost rested and finally like himself again.

Jensen smiled. "I am. All thanks to you."

Jared blushed but brushed it away. "Don’t mention it."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Jensen nodded. For the time being, he wouldn’t mention it again, it not being the right place and time. But one day soon, he would tell his friend how much it meant to him, how much Jared meant to him. Still a little scared thinking about telling Jared the truth, his pulse quickened. But now, as he made up his mind, there was no way back. He would stand his ground and just take the risk. He owed it to himself and to his best friend.

**Jared**

Jared was curious. Jensen had been behaving very secretively lately, having asked him to keep Friday evening free for him without giving any further explanation of what he was up to.

Now that Friday evening was here, Jensen, who wore black dress pants and a dark green shirt, knocked on his door, and, with a sweet little smile on his face, asked Jared to drive to an address in Newport.

The address turned out to be that of a parking garage. From there, Jensen led Jared to the cinema, and after the movie to a steak house. There were candles and wine and dessert, and if Jared hadn’t been with his male best friend, he’d have thought this was a date.

This impression strengthened when Jensen suggested a stroll through a little park near the restaurant. It was much colder than two weeks ago, when the incident with Morgan had happened, the sky clear and sprinkled with countless stars, the moon huge, illuminating the graveled paths better than the dim lanterns, throwing distorted shapes of shadows over it.

It was weird, because something deep down in Jared wouldn’t even mind if it was a date. Sure, he was straight, but in all the months he had spent with his best friend, and with all the things they had been going through together - the occurrences of two weeks ago the icing on the cake, bringing them even closer together - Jared had really learned to love Jensen.

It wasn’t just the ‘you’re my best buddy, let’s have a lot of fun’ kind of love. It was something deeper, something he hadn’t even felt with Sandy, whom he had dated for a record-breaking 10 months before she had dumped him for Harvard University. If he had to describe his perfect match, the woman he wanted to spend his life with - if Jared really believed in the institution of matrimony, which he wasn’t so sure of - it’d be all the things Jensen was made of.

Besides, his friend was looking outrageously good, simply scrumptious, and the best thing was, he wasn’t even aware of it. If women checked him out, which happened daily, Jensen shyly brushed it away and claimed that they surely had looked at Jared, being all tall and lean and muscled.

Last, but not least, there definitely was something when they interacted; chemistry, a tension of expectancy and attraction in the air, strengthening so much when they hugged. Whenever they did this, whenever Jared just stepped into the room, it was like the sun shone so much brighter on Jensen, and all the worries that burdened both their shoulders at the moment, the trauma of the attack, melted way.

It was clear that Jensen adored him and, if Jared was absolutely honest with himself, he adored Jensen, too. When he thought about what might have happened if he hadn’t stopped Morgan, an ice-cold hand griped him, making Jared numb with fear and sadness.

He couldn’t tell, since it luckily hadn’t happened, but if he had lost Jensen, Jared wasn’t sure if he could have survived it.

**Jensen**

So far, the night had been going very well. The atmosphere between them was easy and companionable. They had enjoyed the movie and their dinner and, as always, Jared was in a good mood, laughing and smiling, touching him even more often than usual.

Whenever his long fingers brushed over Jensen’s skin, a sparkle ran through his body, fanning the fire burning in his belly even stronger, and the prickle didn’t seem to stop anymore.

He had never felt this way.

When Jared was with him, he was calmer, stable, satisfied. Complete. And it was time to let him know.

Right now, he was even more nervous than a few days ago, when he had asked Jared out. His fingers were clammy, the prickle in his belly was suddenly replaced by queasiness, and his heart beat so heavily that Jensen could almost feel his blood pumping through his veins.

Jensen chanced a glance at his friend who was walking next to him, so close that their shoulders sometimes touched. Having fixed his eyes on a spot in the distant darkness of the park, Jared looked uncommonly absent and Jensen couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind, if Jared maybe was thinking the same thoughts, about how their relationship had so wonderfully developed over the past few months.

As if he was about to jump into the water, Jensen took a deep breath. He finally let go of his fear and told Jared what he felt.

**Jared**

"Jay?" Jensen paused, looking at his friend.

"Yeah? You good, Jen? You look odd." It might just be the shadows gracing Jensen’s face but there was something there, yet unseen, something Jared couldn’t give a name.

Jensen nodded deliberately. "Yeah. I just wanted to thank you. For saving my life, Jay." His voice quivered slightly, the emotions overwhelming Jensen. "Everything I am, I am because of you. And please," he added when he saw that Jared wanted to open his mouth to object, "don’t deny it. It is how it is. You turned my life upside down and you saved me in so many different ways. I know this sounds very, very cheesy, but before the amnesia I was always missing something, a piece of me. I searched and searched for it, never really knowing where and what it was." Color crept onto his cheeks. "Now I’ve found it. I’ve known it for a while but was always too chicken to say it, but now I just must." He smiled, and the happiness he felt chased the liquid from his eyes. "It’s you, Jay. You give me all the things I can’t give myself."

The words hung between them heavily and, one by one, they sank in, taking Jared’s breath away, making him feel weirdly lightheaded, as if he was drunk.

He was dumbstruck. Was this what he thought it was?

Was Jensen telling him...?

No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t mean it like this. He might be gay but he’d never... No, this was unthinkable.

Nevertheless, Jensen’s words left an odd feeling inside Jared. Unsure of what to do, feeling clumsy and awkward, Jared hugged his friend. He didn’t say a word, just held on tight, and hoped that, somehow, Jensen could read his mind, understanding that Jensen gave him a lot in return.

***

It wasn’t the reaction Jensen had hoped for. Jared could see it in his eyes, and quietly, he led him back to his car, not knowing what he could say, not knowing what he should expect now, or what he should do, if things really were like they seemed. The thought alone freaked Jared out because, no matter what he might feel for his best friend, he wasn’t gay.

The ride home was quiet, with both men lost in their own thoughts, and Jared was almost relieved when he could finally escape the weird atmosphere inside the car, and stepped into the cutting cold December night, dark clouds gathering in the sky.

Two days ago, Jensen had moved back into his cottage, and in a way, as much as Jared loved being with Jensen, he was grateful that he could say goodbye now, that he could hide at his place and think about what Jensen had really wanted to say. "Thanks for the evening, man," Jared said, but he hated the sound of his voice; it was a little forced, a little too formal. "I really enjoyed it. Good Night."

"Good Night, Jay." Jensen’s arms wrapped around him and held him tight. "I love you."

The words cut deep into Jared’s heart, just for the way they were said. Not casually, but all serious and meaningful, and it was clear that Jensen really was talking about love. Deep, strong and all-consuming love.

Before Jared could really process Jensen’s revelation, Jensen surprised him even more and kissed him. It wasn’t the amicably peck on forehead, temple or cheek they sometimes gave each other, but a full on kiss. Warm lips pressed against his, with Jensen’s tongue tasting them. For one glorious moment it seemed like a wonderful idea, and Jared leaned into it, but when Jensen deepened it deftly, panic spread through Jared. He couldn’t do this!

"No," he demanded gently. "Please, Jen. I can’t. I’m not... like you. You’re my friend and I love you like my brother, but I can’t give you this, I can’t give you everything. I’m sorry." He was, sorrier than ever before, and his heart was breaking for what he’d done to his friend.

Jensen looked shattered, but, with his head held high, he nodded, turned around, and walked away until the night swallowed him. Jared knew Jensen was breaking, and he hated himself for doing it, but this was just too much. How could he give Jensen this? He wasn’t like that...

With tears blurring his eyes, Jared went into his house. It was big and empty, and suddenly Jared shuddered with the thought that he had to live here for the rest of his life, alone, just surrounded by roses and apple trees and snow in the severe winters.

He couldn’t stay here. He neither could do this to Jensen or to himself; facing him again, seeing the love he couldn’t return in the sad green eyes. Jensen deserved so much better.

Hurriedly, Jared packed some clothes, wrote a quick note to his friend and jumped into his car. As if demons were behind him, Jared fled from Jensen, from his bad conscience, and, most of all, from his feelings and the unthinkable thought that a part of him had wanted to kiss Jensen back.

**Jensen**

He hadn’t cried. His disappointment was beyond tears. Maybe later he would weep for his loss, but now, the shock was sitting too deep, the wound hurting too much, robbing Jensen of all his power.

He had been so sure that Jared would miraculously return his feelings. The looks, the touches, the gentleness. The way Jared cared and protected him. Only someone who truly loved could do this, couldn’t they? But he had been mistaken.

He hadn’t slept either. He had tossed and turned in his bed inside the little room he now used, the thought of what had happened in the main bedroom too spooky to give him any rest there, had stared at the ceiling, had breathed into his pillow, but nothing had helped.

When dawn crept over the orchard, Jensen got up and went to the kitchen, hoping to find some solitude in a well-made mug of coffee.

Instead, he found a note on the floor in his hallway.

_Jen,_

_I’m sorry but I can’t stay._

_It’s just too hard._

_Don’t know when I’ll be back._

_Jay_

Jensen broke into a thousand little pieces, and everything Jared had given to him was gone, leaving him a shattered, sobbing, snotting mess.

**Part 4: Winter 2005**

**13**

**Jared**

The ringing doorbell sounded painfully shrill in his ears and when he opened his hurting eyes, which seemed as hard as climbing Mount Everest, the bright winter sun almost blinded him.

Grunting, Jared ignored the noise and turned over, his head, no, his whole body aching with the simple move.

He didn’t remember much of the past few days, just that the devil in him had prevailed. He had partied; he had drunk himself stupid; he had smoked more weed than ever before; had even thrown in some happy pills; and whenever he had woken up, it was to a nameless hot chick next to him. Jared had fucked through half of LA just to prove to himself that he was as straight as ever, and that Jensen’s kiss hadn’t altered a thing.

It hadn’t really worked. His eyes, his lips, his hands – everything Jensen was – didn’t really leave him.

And the doorbell was still ringing.

Jared pressed the heel of his hands into his ears to stop the tedious noise from bugging him so much, but it didn’t really help, it went on and on.

Eventually, Jared gave up. Whoever was the annoying visitor, they would win. For now.

More stumbling than walking, almost falling down the last few steps of the stairs, Jared found his way to the door.

He pulled it open, only to want to slam it closed the next moment when his mom’s disapproving but also worried eyes met his.

She didn’t let him. Unexpectedly strong, she held the door open to slip through the gap.

"I’ve had enough of this," she scolded him without the usual pleasantries she’d normally say first. "You come back two weeks earlier than expected, are barely talking, at least to us, and the only thing you’re doing is partying and picking up girls at a record-breaking speed. That’s not you, JT. Not even the old you. What’s going on?"

His head was hurting so much, and everything in front of his eyes was blurred and just one strange mass. "Not your business," he snarled poisonously. "I’m grown up. Can do whatever I want to do. Can fuck as many chicks as I want to."

If looks could kill, Sheri Padalecki would have murdered her son with the ice-cold glare she threw at him. "You’re behaving very grown up." Sarcasm dripped from every world. "Look at you! Your clothes are stained and dirty, you smell like you haven’t showered in a week, and I really don’t want to know what that stuff is in your hair!"

Jared sniffed and combed an uncoordinated hand through his hair. His mom was right. He really didn’t smell like violets, and his hair was greasy, like he had washed it with oil.

"Please, JT," his mom now said in a gentler tone. "What’s going on here? Did you and Jensen have an argument? Please talk to me, honey. You know you can tell me anything."

Of course Jared knew this. There had been a time, before his Storm and Stress period in life, when he really could tell his mom everything. But she couldn’t help him now, could she? No, probably not. She couldn’t take away the kiss, the feelings that had come with it, Jensen’s feelings for him, or even Jared’s feelings for Jensen, but most of all, she couldn’t change that he had run away like a cowardly deserter.

He didn’t answer his mom, didn’t even look at her, but just stood there on his wobbly legs, with an aching head and an aching heart, barely holding it together. What had he done? "It’s complicated," he offered when his mom’s eyes didn’t stop stabbing him, looking right through the mask of party he had put on in the past few days.

"I bet it is, honey." She sighed. "Why don’t you have a shower, sweetheart, and I’ll make you some coffee and then we can talk? I also brought some cinnamon muffins. I know how much you like them around Christmas."

Jared didn’t really want to. He was old enough to dig himself out of the heap of shit he had buried himself in, but the offer sounded good and promising and this was his mom, who would never judge him. So, in spite of the devil inside fighting him, he nodded, turned around, and walked upstairs like a beaten dog.

***

The steam caressed his skin, the coffee’s wonderful aroma settled him and, finally, the Advil Jared had taken before he had stepped under the shower, kicked in, too. The pain melted away, leaving Jared feeling exhausted and uncommonly vulnerable. He was glad that his mom was here.

She didn’t push, only watched her son openly, knowing that he would talk when he was ready. Jared knew that, too. He needed this, an outsider’s view on things, on Jensen, on Jensen and him.

"Jensen kissed me." The words hung between them, but if he had suspected a surprised or shocked gasp from his mother, Jared was disappointed.

All she did was nod. "Yeah. I thought one day he might."

"You what???!!" Jared couldn’t believe his ears. That must be the alcohol’s aftermath.

"Oh, honey. The way he talks about you and the way he looks at you. It’s obvious that he’s got it real bad for you. How could you be so blind?"

Jared shrugged. He hadn’t really noticed. Sure, there had been this tension in the air but, in the end, when it happened, it still had been a shock.

"And how did you react, honey?" she asked very gently.

Shame washed over Jared. Now, as he remembered, he realized that he had reacted almost in the worst possible way. He shuddered.

"Darling?"

"He... took me out. Invited me out. Movie. Dinner. A stroll in the park. Almost like a date. It was nice. Really nice, Mom. And he said some beautiful things. That I’m sort of the piece in his life he has always been missing." A dreamy expression in his face crept over his face. "When we said goodnight, he told me that he loved me and he kissed me." Jared bit his lip. "For a second, I returned his kiss, Mom. But, then... I, umm... realized what I was doing and well…"

"You ran away?"

He wasn’t proud of his flight. "Yeah, that very night. Left him a note."

"Oh, honey!" Sheri called out.

"What should I have done, Mom?" But even as Jared asked, he knew that anything else would have been better than running away.

Sighing, his mom shook her head. "Oh, sweetheart. You could have done so much other than that."

"But, Mom," Jared tried to argue, "how could I look Jensen in the eye? How could I hug him when I know that he wishes so much more?"

"What do you wish, JT?"

"What?"

"It’s an easy question, honey. What do you wish, what do you want? Most of all, what do you feel for Jensen?"

"I’m not gay," Jared noted.

"That’s not what I asked you, JT."

"Mom..." Jared sounded pleading. "He’s.... my friend."

She shook her head, smiling a little. "Yes, he is. But he’s more than that, Jared. Don’t lie to me. Just tell me, what do you feel?"

Jared sniffed. No, he wouldn’t cry. Not now. He was no girl. "He’s my best friend," he said evasively.

His mom threw him a punishing look. "And?"

Fuck. How could she know? "I care for him. He’s very important to me. Very special."

"You love him like he loves you." It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and Jared didn’t have the heart to deny it. It would have been a lie and she would have seen right through it. It was true. Jared loved Jensen; he was his world.

"I do." Jared’s face turned pink. "But. I’m. Not. Gay," he insisted.

This time, Sheri even laughed a little. "Do you think your dad and I would mind? Because we wouldn’t. We’d love to see you settled, and Jensen is a really good man."

"I know he is," Jared breathed out, feeling his protective shield crumble.

"Why are you so scared, sweetheart? There’s no reason to be. We love you. We support you. Jensen loves you. You have everything you need."

"But I’m not gay," he said again, like a record with a flaw.

"Oh, honey. I know you probably aren’t. Maybe you’re bi. Maybe you’re just gay for Jensen. Does it really matter? You love him. You need him. You’re miserable without him. Just look how deep you’ve fallen. Go back to him. Have lots of sex. Be happy."

"Mom!" Jared blushed deeply. He so didn’t want to talk about his sex life with his mom. Least of all a possibly gay sex life.

She laughed. "Please, Jared. Do it. It might not be the easiest thing to do, but it’s the right thing. I think you and Jensen are meant to be together. Just think about how you met and the thing with the book. That was no mere coincidence. This was as much fate as when Gerry and I met." She pulled a piece of paper out of her handbag. "Here, a ticket to Burlington. The plane leaves in six hours. That’s time enough to eat my muffins and pack your things."

"Mom... I." Jared still tried to object. What could he ever say to make it up to Jensen?

"Oh, no, honey. Just do it. And don’t you dare come home for Christmas without your boyfriend."

"Christmas is in four days, Mom!"

"Well, then you better hurry up. Good luck, darling." She hugged and kissed Jared’s cheek and then she was gone as swiftly as she had appeared.

Jared looked at the ticket. He could just forfeit it.

But then, he saw those eyes again, green and shiny and hopeful. He saw Jensen laughing and crying, scared and hyper, working and relaxing.

How could he leave him alone for a second longer than necessary?

He loved him. He missed him.

He emptied his coffee, then poured himself another one, slowly ate the muffins, and finally, Jared packed his clothes.

He was ready to go home.

**Jensen**

Every day seemed gray and dull, blurring into the next. There was no laughter, no joy, just nothing. It was just sleeping, eating and drinking, and sometimes, he even forgot to do that and if it hadn’t been for Sam who came to see him every couple of days, he’d soon have been where he had been a year ago: a neglected nothing.

Thanks to Sam, he was just a nothing, because he was nothing without Jared, just a shell, with so many little things missing.

He was close to the edge. One tiny step and he would fall even deeper into a hole where he couldn’t crawl out. For the first time in years, the old sadness, the longing for oblivion, for death, was taking a hold of him. How could he live without Jared in his life?

Not having his love was bad enough, but no longer having his friendship? It was killing Jensen, slowly, painfully, devouring him from the inside, biting at his heart and soul and mind. He no longer cried. He had cried so much, and now, two weeks later, he was far, far beyond tears.

Outside, thick fluffy snowflakes were dancing through the air, covering the sleeping nature until it was ready to awaken in spring. Opening a window and looking into the night, Jensen didn’t even really feel the biting cold. His thoughts flew away like the flakes, back to happier times. Maybe, if he could hibernate like the animals and wake up in spring, everything would turn out to be just a nightmare?

The sound of heavy boots on creaky snow pulled him out of his thoughts.

For a moment, he was petrified as the memory of Morgan’s attack came back. The feeling only strengthened when someone started knocking softly at the door. Who would come to see him this late in the evening? Sam had come over during the afternoon.

Then he shook off his fear. He was being unreasonable here. Jeff would never hurt him again. He was still in the prison hospital, watched around the clock, and he would get a life sentence for the things he had done. And if someone wanted to do him any harm, he certainly wouldn’t be knocking, would he?

Shivering, Jensen closed the window and moved over to the door. He peered through the spyhole but didn’t see anything. Carefully, he opened the door. There was a dark red rose lying in the white snow, and under it a note.

Jensen frowned. What could it mean? He knelt down, recognizing the handwriting at once.

_A piece of me is missing,_ Jared had scrawled on it.  _Please help me find it_ .

Had Jared come back?

"Jay?" His voice sounded strangely dull in the night, everything being dampened by the snow.

A cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows, smiling, and uncommonly self-conscious. "Hey, Jen. I’m back."

Jensen nodded but didn’t say anything.

"I forgot something and, at first, I didn’t even realize that it was missing. But now, I can’t deny it any longer."

"What did you forget, Jay?" Jensen leaned heavily against the door frame, his fingers digging painfully into his skin, a sickening feeling in his belly, made of hope and anxiety.

"You, Jen. I forgot you." Jared sounded odd, like he was barely holding it together. "My mom said that I mustn’t come home for Christmas without my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Jensen almost choked on the word, and his heart started to beat excitedly; the nausea now walking hand in hand with a slight dizziness.

As Jared stepped a little closer, Jensen could finally see his friend’s face. It was tear-stained. Only once had he seen Jared cry before – when he had read his book – but now, with thick drops running down his cheeks, Jared looked even more miserable, more broken.

Jensen didn’t really understand what was happening here. Certainly not what Jared had said because... No, these things just happened in movies and, as magical as his life had been in the last 10 months, this couldn’t be.

"If you want me," Jared said self-consciously. "And if you can forgive me. For being blind, damn stupid, and the biggest coward ever, Jen. I..."

"Why don’t you come in, Jay," Jensen suggested, still not really believing this turn of events. "It’s damn cold out here."

Smiling gratefully, Jared moved closer. He looked crap. Well-groomed, compared to Jensen, who had neglected himself, but tired, with dark shadows under his eyes and, like him, his friend had lost a few pounds.

"Hey." Jared reached out his cold hand and touched Jensen’s scruffy cheek gently. "You look like crap."

"Yeah. You too."

"I know. Hard times."

"Yeah. Hard times."

Jensen closed the door behind them and watched Jared strip out of his wet boots and coat.

"How about some coffee?" Jensen offered.

"Sounds good."

Jared followed him into the kitchen, getting mugs, sugar, and milk while Jensen ran the coffee machine. The air was full with tension, filled with unsaid words and unanswered questions, and, when their fingers touched, a shiver ran through Jensen.

Silently, they went to Jensen’s living room where a huge fire was spreading a cozy warmth. They didn’t speak a word, just nursed their coffees, the silence neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, just a little expectant.

Jared took longer to finish his coffee, staring into the dark liquid again and again, like it was a crystal ball that could tell him the truth.

Only once Jared had put it down, did he look over to his friend and, without hesitating any longer, did he take Jensen’s hand in his own.

His first instinct was to pull it away, but the hold was firm and, in a way, safe.

"I’m sorry, Jensen, for breaking you." It was clear in his look and oddly hunched posture that Jared was miserable. "I never wanted to hurt you so much."

Jensen knew Jared hadn’t. He probably just freaked and if he had been in his stead... Yeah, probably, he’d have freaked, too. "I know that, Jay. But it doesn’t make the pain go away. How can I know that you really mean it? That you won’t do it again?"

The younger man swallowed. "You can’t. All you can do, Jen, is trust me, like you once did. I can’t promise not to make any mistakes. I’m human after all. But I didn’t do it willingly, and I will give you everything to be the boyfriend you deserve. Please, Jen." Jared smiled slightly. "Let’s risk this, together. Let’s make our dreams come to."

Jared was his dream. And he was within a grasp. He’d be stupid not to chance it, wouldn’t he?

It was the smallest thing that convinced Jensen. Not Jared’s promise, because, too often, promises were broken. Not even the soft, kind look in his eyes. It was the way Jared played with his fingers, all gentle, like they were the most precious thing in the world, that persuaded Jensen to risk it.

"Let’s make them come true, Jay," he whispered before he leaned over to Jared. His boyfriend.

**Jared**

The bed in the small room Jensen used as bedroom was too small for two grownups such as them, but he also could understand why Jensen didn’t want to sleep in the main bedroom any longer. Morgan’s blood might have been wiped away but, nevertheless, it had stained the peace and safety of Larkspur Cottage forever.

Of course, they could have walked back to Orchard House, but it didn’t really matter anyways. All that mattered was that they were together.

Patiently, Jared was listening to the water thundering in the shower. They had kissed, all soft and gentle, mapping out each other’s mouths and faces with tongues and fingertips, moaning and whimpering, until suddenly, Jensen had squeaked in shock. Self-consciously, he had murmured something about smelling like an old pair of shoes and had vanished into his bathroom.

In the meantime, Jared had cleaned the mugs away, had tended to the fire in Jensen’s bedroom, and had changed the sheets; they definitely smelled like a pair of old shoes.

They had both forgotten to love themselves because their significant other was gone, leaving a hole that simply could not be filled.

Finally, Jensen stepped into the room, wearing dark pajamas, a cloud of some wonderfully smelling shower gel following him. He looked at the small bed doubtfully, but when Jared opened his arms invitingly, he slipped beneath the covers too and snuggled real close.

Only now did Jared notice how well Jensen actually fit into his arms, like he was made for him. He smiled and kissed the older man’s forehead when he realized that it was exactly how it should be. Jensen was the one piece in his life he had always been missing. He hadn’t even known it for a long, long time, but the last two weeks, when he had lost himself, had been proof enough, and now, as Jensen was curled around him, breathing with him in unison, Jared was finally complete.

**14**

**Jensen**

"Merry Christmas," Jared whispered into his ear, biting his earlobe gently before his lips found their way over his scratchy cheek to his mouth, catching it in a gentle kiss.

"Merry Christmas, yourself," Jensen breathed into the kiss, deepening it, pushing forward, deeper, and in one moment it changed, growing into something greedy and passionate.

They hadn’t gone that last step yet, and had taken their time to discover their bodies first before they would unite them. They were complete without sex, anyways. If this was a girly thought, Jensen didn’t care. But as Jared’s fingers brushed gently down his side, the touch burning on his skin, as he groaned in pure pleasure, Jensen didn’t want to wait any longer, dismissing his girly thoughts.

"Jay!" he begged.

It was just his boyfriend’s name, but obviously Jared knew what it was about because he laughed salaciously. "Yeah, want this too. But not now. My mom expects us for the infamous Padalecki Christmas Eve Dinner." He glanced at his watch. "Like, 5 minutes ago."

"Later?" Jensen batted his lashes.

"Later."

***

Thankfully, the Padalecki Christmas Eve Dinner wasn’t such a huge affair as the Thanksgiving Dinner. There was just the close family; Jared’s parents and siblings, no one else.

It was good, because they didn’t seem to mind Jared being gay for him, and the only thing they got when Jared started his new favorite hobby - holding Jensen’s hand - was an eye-roll from his older brother and a gentle ‘Sap’.

The Christmas tree in the entrance hall was the biggest Jensen had ever seen, and the pile of presents underneath it was quite respectable, too.

Jensen was spoiled with presents and the Padalecki’s generosity brought tears to his eyes. It didn’t matter that they could afford it; it was the idea behind the presents that made him so sentimental. Photo equipment, a voucher for a luxurious skiing holiday - something he had always dreamed about as a kid, having mentioned it in his book - and a new watch.

"Jen?" Jensen looked up from the shiny watch around his wrist. "Merry Christmas, sweetie." Jared handed him a gift wrapped box.

He opened it to find four more wrapped presents in it.

The first one he took rattled a little when he shook it curiously and, when he opened it, he found a puzzle, one you could make of your private photos.

The photo had been taken in autumn, after their good harvest, when Jared had given a feast for everyone who had helped and supported them. They hadn’t been together then, but, nevertheless, you could see the love shining in their eyes and in the way they held each other – Jensen’s hand tightly pressed against Jared’s heart.

He brushed his hand over the photo and smiled over to his boyfriend. Jared looked satisfied.

Carefully, Jensen opened the second present. It was a journal.

_May your second book be much happier._

_Love you, Jay._

He wiped his hand over his forehead and eyes, hoping he caught the hated tears. "You want me to write again, Jay?"

"I want you to write for you, Jen. You’re good at it. And I bet a lot of people are waiting to hear about your happy ending." Jared kissed his cheek unbelievably gently.

Jensen sniffed. He really didn’t know what to say. Curious about what the biggest present might be, he tore it open and, when he thumbed through it, he couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. A much younger version of him looked back at him, from back then, when he had been still happy, when he had believed in fairy tales and a good life, but also from when it had been hard; with his friends by his side, on the few occasions where he hadn’t been too proud to refuse their help. "Where did you find them, Jay?"

Jared smiled secretively. "Wouldn’t be a secret if I told you."

Jensen pouted. He had never believed he would see photos of himself ever again, had always believed his memories, good and bad ones, were the only reminder of who he was.

"Promise me not to freak out."

His heart began to beat excitedly. "Is it good news?"

His boyfriend nodded. "After we found out who you are, I called Matt. He isn’t a total loser, you know. With all the information he had from your book... It was pretty easy. He found your buddies, Steve and Chris. And," Jared announced as he smiled triumphantly while making a theatrical pause, "your sister."

Only now did Jensen notice that he was actually shaking. "Mac?" he asked, his sister’s name sounding weak in his ears, but this was just too massive to ignore. His sister... Not one day had passed since Jensen had gotten his memory back when he hadn’t thought about his beloved baby sister, but he had never ever imagined hearing from her again.

"Yeah. She’s living in London. Married, and with a little baby, Jen. You’re an uncle." His boyfriend’s smile matched the happiness that spread through Jensen’s heart. "That’s why she couldn’t come. The little worm is just, well, too tiny. But she’s overwhelmingly happy for having you back, Jen."

"You talked to her?" Jensen asked through tears.

"Yeah. If it comforts you, little princess, she cried, too." Gently, Jared moved his thumb over Jensen’s face, brushing the tears away.

"Can we go see her?"

Jared pouted, like Jensen had just spoiled the surprise. "Just open the last present, Jen, and you’ll see."

With trembling fingers, he unwrapped the small, thin box. It was a passport. Even before Jensen opened it, he knew it was his. "How? Don’t I have to sign it? Is it legit?"

"Sure it’s legit." Jared sounded appalled, like the thought that he would do something illegal was the most farfetched ever. "Detective Gamble helped me and, well, millions of Dad’s contacts. We used the signature on your evidence against Jeff."

Reverently, and with trembling hands, Jensen opened it.

It was his.

A photo of him, which he had believed to be for the police record, and all his data. His birthday, which he could finally celebrate again in a few months, and everything that was him: Jensen Ross Ackles.

Jared had given him another piece of him.

Absolutely overwhelmed, Jensen swallowed hard.

"What about my sister, Jay?" he asked once he found his composure again. "You said I’d find out."

Jared laughed. "Now you have a passport, dear, you can go visit her any time. I didn’t want to book anything in case you wouldn’t want to go, but she made it clear that you’re always welcome."

Oh, God. He could go see his sister, after all these years. His beautiful baby sister, now with a baby herself. It was such a massive thing that Jensen had problems processing it. "How about January?" he suggested, wanting to see Mackenzie as soon as possible. "January is boring in River’s End."

Jared chuckled. "Yeah. It sure is. Let’s spend January in London. But before we book our flights," Jared added as he stole a little kiss from him, "let’s have some eggnog with my folks and then," Jared wiggled his eyebrows, "let’s have our own very private Christmas celebration."

**Jared**

He felt like a virgin and, correctly speaking, he was one, because he had never done it with another man. Other than so many years ago when he had seduced his first ever woman, Jared didn’t even know much about what might happen and what could be done, simply because he had never thought about it. Sure, he had tried some uncommon positions with some of his girls, and some had liked it rough but, still, what was going to happen now was very different.

Jensen seemed to understand this because he smiled at him gently, hugging his fear away. "Don’t be nervous," he whispered into his ear. "I’ll take care of you."

Jensen took the initiative, and began to slowly, reverently, strip Jared of his clothes. It was a gentle game, with buttons being opened, hands brushing over his heated skin, a kiss caressing a mole here or a nipple there, and Jensen’s tongue gently gliding into Jared’s belly button.

Smiling gently, Jensen cupped the bulge in Jared’s dress pants before he pulled them and his boxers down, catching Jared’s cock between his lips, where he helped it grow with greedy movements of his lips, underscored with dirty sounds.

Jared had turned into a begging mess, his only vocabulary being his boyfriend’s name and pleading commands.

The older man laughed lasciviously, still sucking Jared while his hand moved between his legs, circling Jared’s hole. They hadn’t really talked about who would bottom, but Jensen had said that he liked it both ways and, as Jared had never been fucked before, he was curious what it would be like. Feeling Jensen circling his tight ring of muscles now, taking him further and further out of space with those simple movements and the hot sounds that were escaping his throat, Jared didn’t regret his choice at all.

Heat was now bubbling under his skin and he felt that Jensen had brought him very close to his climax by sucking and licking and massaging the sensitive skin on his member with his lips, while his fingers stroked and rubbed and gently penetrated his hole a little. It burned without lube, but it was a good, sort of comfortable, pain and Jared almost missed Jensen’s finger when it retreated, only to claw into his ass cheeks just moments before he finally came.

Jensen shuddered, too, just a few seconds later, but he didn’t grant them any rest.

Getting to his feet again, he took Jared’s hand, and pressed it against his heart. Jared could feel the excited beat – steady but fast – just like his own. Jensen caught his lips in another hungry kiss and, suddenly, the shyness Jared had felt was forgotten, his own hand on Jensen’s chest, moving down, ripping open Jensen’s shirt, his fingers curiously following down the line of his happy trail.

Before Jared could pull down Jensen’s pants, the older man pushed him onto the bed with a guttural moan, getting rid of his trousers himself. It looked like Jensen didn’t want Jared to lose his focus, which was to be caressed and treated well, to be sucked and fucked.

"I love it when you get all bossy," Jared groaned, opening his legs for his boyfriend, his cock already awakening again.

"Looks like someone stripped of all his shyness and is very eager now," Jensen noted happily.

Once again, Jensen’s eager mouth licked and sucked and nibbled Jared, caressing him from head to toe, all gorgeous 6’4" of skin. Shudder after shudder ran through Jared’s body, and the only remedy for the rising heat was Jensen’s cool breath on his skin.

Eventually, Jensen seemed ready and he positioned himself between Jared’s legs, his hands gently rubbing the insides of his thighs. "You ready?" he whispered.

"Oh yes," Jared pressed out. He was more than ready; his whole body was on the edge in a very positive sense.

They had bought lube and condoms before they flew back to LA, and with eyes blown wide with lust, Jared watched Jensen impatiently rip open the condom packet. "Let me do it," Jared offered with an uncommonly deep voice, gently rolling the condom over Jensen’s pulsating member, kissing its tip once it was done. Without waiting for an invitation, he also took the lube, putting a generous amount on Jensen’s eager cock. "Is that enough?"

"Perfect." Gently, Jensen kissed him. "Now, let me do the rest. Let me make you happy, Jay."

"I am happy." It was the simple truth. This here was heaven, so much better, so much more natural than he had expected it to be. It was him and Jensen, and if someone in the world thought they were wrong and unnatural, then it was their problem, not his.

Jensen did what he had done before, circling his index finger around Jared’s entrance, gently digging in, but different than earlier, this time, he buried it deeper and deeper, moving it a little, widening Jared with every little move. It was bliss and torture at the same time, gifting Jared with feelings he’d never known before, sending ecstatic shivers through his body.

There were so many sensations overtaking him that it was hard to catch them all; Jensen’s moans and dirty prompts, his own, vulgar sounds, the burning in his ass, hot and painful, but so welcome, and the waves of heat running through his body. There were lips and fingers, kissing, biting, petting and scratching and, eventually, when Jensen was working him open with a second finger, he was too far gone to care much about anything at all. He was nothing other than a writhing, slobbering mess, and Jensen’s cheering commands were only a steady, though welcome, sound in the background of his own all-consuming moans.

Eventually Jensen’s fingers were gone, being replaced by something so much bigger and harder gliding into him. It ached, much more than before, a pain on the verge of getting uncomfortable, and Jared sucked in a sharp breath, releasing it with a grateful whimper when his body slowly got used to the large cock being buried inside him.

With a gentle kiss, Jensen took the last remaining pain away and what came next was exactly how Jared loved it best; gentle at first, the pace quickening with every thrust, Jensen riding him passionately like he had never done anything else in his life.

Eventually, Jared knew that he was close to his climax, his own dick, wrapped into Jensen’s fist, painfully hard.

It happened even before Jensen, who was still so deeply buried inside him, came, with a long shudder and an even longer moan, charming a weirdly satisfied look on his boyfriend’s face.

Some more moments passed and then Jared felt Jensen’s body jerk and, pinching his fingers painfully into his waist, he ejaculated, his sounds of release booming through the guest house.

Both were gasping for air, suddenly lacking oxygen, suddenly feeling something else again, other than each other; the cool draft whispering through the open window, the sweat on their bodies, the rumpled sheets beneath them.

Jared was overwhelmed, drained and hyper all at the same time. He smiled, and wrapped his arms, which suddenly felt very heavy, around Jensen. It didn’t do the experience and the intimacy of their act any justice, but Jared hoped it was enough for Jensen to understand – a simple gesture that was better than simple words.

Jensen smiled back. He understood.

They both knew they were one, having found the missing piece in each other.

**Epilogue: Summer 2007**

**Jensen**

The journal was lying open on the desk in the bright bedroom Jensen used as an office, and several notes were scattered over the surface, leaving just enough space for the shiny black laptop. The white empty document stared at him expectantly, ready to be filled with words that continued the story of his life. A soft mild breeze whispered through the open window, caressing his tanned skin, carrying the fragrance of roses, lavender, and apples with it. Birds sang and, from downstairs, he could hear their dog, Sadie, barking and Jared laughing in return.

His memories wandered to almost a decade back, to when he had written his first autobiography. Back then, he had been broken and miserable, barely holding it together, seeking solitude and oblivion in something that sooner or later came anyways.

Now, as the wheel of Fortune had turned, Jensen couldn’t believe that he and the guy who had written _Pieces of Me_ was the same person. Everything had changed.

Sure, he still had those memories, but nowadays, they were blurred; the wound in his heart was almost healed, the pain was finally ebbing away, and the nightmares were long forgotten. His past was a part of him, but unlike ten years ago, he didn’t moan and whine over it any longer.

Everything had changed.

He glanced at his notes, skimming through the first pages of the journal filled with memories from the time when he had awoken as “John” to the present. He closed his eyes and began to write the sequel of the story of his life.

_"Everything changed."_

***

After two hours, Jensen’s eyes hurt, his shoulders ached, and his throat was dry.

He needed a break.

Stretching himself, he got up and strolled through the small room, happy for the little distraction. Writing had been more difficult than Jensen had anticipated. Not the act of writing itself, that was easy, but rather bringing all of his memories and thoughts to paper without confusing the reader too much. The fact that the months after his awakening with amnesia had been some of the most difficult ones in his life didn’t make the task easier.

Maybe it would help looking at the few things he had from back then.

He opened the small closet and almost at once, his eyes fell on the old, ragged cloak and the page of his book, now kept in a transparent envelope. He took them out, smelling the odor that stuck to the cloak, no matter how often they had it cleaned, seeing the creases, tears and the dirty greasy prints on the page.

Suddenly, he felt the cold again, and the desperation, the doubts and the fear.

Shuddering, Jensen put the items on the little armchair, and dug deeper into the closet. There wasn’t much; the old knife and flashlight, the photo album with pictures of his childhood, another, more current one, with photos taken during the past two years, and, in the darkest corner, the puzzle Jared had given him for Christmas.

All these things were part of the story, too, part of his life, and even though he wasn’t that far in his book yet, and would still need plenty of hours and even more words to arrive at where Jared and he had met, these items gave him a slight case of melancholy, too.

He thumbed through the albums, skipping some pages, looking at some more intensely and in the end, with these images and memories whirling through his mind, Jensen looked at the puzzle thoughtfully.

As much as Jensen had loved the meaning of the present, he’d never bothered to put it together. There had been too many other things going on in his head – the reunion with his sister being at the top of the list – and when Jared and he had returned to River’s End, they had been busy with the farm and moving in together, and Jensen had put the puzzle into this very closet, never to take it out again.

Now, though, it seemed like a good idea to finally put it together. Jensen would put himself together, like Jared had put him together, piece by piece. Just like the men had grown together, all the tiny parts would become whole in the end; Jared and him, like they had been for the past 18 months, maybe even longer.

Jensen hoped it would be enough to sort his thoughts and help him concentrate on his book.

**

It was almost done, except for one piece; a piece of himself, the green of his eye. It was missing. Had he lost it?

Searching, Jensen let his eyes wander over the floor where he had been sitting for the past hour, looking for the missing piece. He even got up, shaking out his clothes, looking more closely, but still it was nowhere.

Jensen grumbled in frustration; it was just too annoying. He should tell Jared. Not that his boyfriend could do anything about it, having ordered and paid for the puzzle more than a year ago, but maybe he could explain this. Maybe, he had done the puzzle himself and had lost the piece. That would be so like him!

"Jay!" Jensen stuck his head out of the door and called his boyfriend. He could hear him watching TV in the living room, but after Jensen had called again, louder, and with a hint of urgency in his voice, Jared opened the door.

"Yeah? Everything okay, baby?"

Jensen huffed. Jared liked to call him baby far too much. "Sure, honey," he returned with an overly sweet tone. "Can you come upstairs for a moment?"

Jared didn’t even ask why, he just hurried up the stairs.

"Hey, baby," he whispered. "Missed me?"

"Oh, yeah," Jensen sniggered. "Actually, there’s a part of me missing."

The younger looked at him in confusion. "What?!"

"Remember the puzzle you gave me for our first Christmas?"

Jared nodded.

"Well, I just put it together, hoping for a bit of inspiration for my book."

"And?" Jared asked casually.

"A piece is missing."

"Really?" he asked, not sounding as surprised and outraged as Jensen had expected him to be, which was odd.

"Yeah, look." Jensen pointed towards the puzzle on the floor, 499 cardboard pieces, forming them, showing their affection, their friendship, their love.

Intensely, Jared looked at it. "Yeah, I see," he noted eventually. "We were young and sweet, then, weren’t we, Jen?" Jared asked innocently, avoiding the actual subject.

Jensen shook his head in a gesture of disbelief. "Yeah, we were. But I don’t like that it’s incomplete. Did you maybe... you know, do the puzzle and lost a piece?"

"Me??!" Jared looked at Jensen like it was the most idiotic idea. Ever.

Jensen shrugged. "Sorry, just thought..." It was stupid, sparing the missing piece of the puzzle too many thoughts, but it bothered him that it wasn’t complete. Not only had he spent an hour of his precious free time to put it together, but it also upset him because it was not just some stupid puzzle you could buy. It was a puzzle of them, a gift Jared had given him, and it was just annoying that he couldn’t finish it.

"Let me help you find it," Jared suggested when he saw Jensen’s face looking like someone had killed Sadie.

"Thanks." Jensen smiled gratefully. "I just don’t like being incomplete, Jay."

"You aren’t," the younger man whispered, kissing him softly.

Jensen smiled, remembering that he hadn’t been incomplete since Jared stepped into his life. "True. I’m not."

**Jared**

The box was where he had put it over a year ago, under a loose floorboard in one of the spare bedrooms. Now, as Jensen had found out about the missing puzzle piece, it was finally ready to be released from its dark, dusty prison.

It was one of his sappier gifts, but probably the one with the deepest meaning, too: A piece of Jensen, to be able to complete him, and a ring that would bind Jared to his promise until forever.

Quickly, but still quietly, Jared loosened the board, and took out the velvety black box, wiping his sleeve over it to clean the dust away. Then he opened it, just to make sure that everything was in its place; the piece of the puzzle, showing Jensen’s eye, all green iris, staring at him, and beneath it the platinum band.

He closed the box and put it in his pocket, hurrying back to Jensen’s office.

The older man was still in the bathroom, washing his hands. It gave Jared enough time to hide the box behind the curtains where they hadn’t looked so far.

All Jared had to do now was wait.

**Jensen**

"Found something?" Jensen asked, frustrated, as he stepped back into the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe it’s under the armchair?" Jared lifted it up a little bit, but there was nothing but dust. "Or under the carpet?"

"Why would it be under the carpet?"

Jared shrugged. "Don’t know. How about you check the window area and I check under the carpet and under the wardrobe?"

The older man huffed in agreement. All their attempts were hopeless; he knew it as well as Jared. The piece had probably been missing from the beginning.

Nevertheless, he went over to the desk that stood in front of the window and crawled under it, checking the dark corners, when he spotted something under one of the long curtains.

"What the hell?" he whispered. As he crawled closer he saw that it was a velvety jewelry box. How did it get there?

"Jay?"

"Found something?"

"Yeah. A jewelry box."

"A jewelry box?" the younger man repeated innocently.

"Yeah. Did we miss it while renovating?" But even as Jensen asked, he knew that it couldn’t be. The room had been completely empty and all furniture and accessories, such as the carpet and curtains, were new.

"Doubt it. Maybe you should open it?" Finally, a light pink flush crept over Jared’s cheeks.

Jensen wasn’t stupid.

He frowned.

He looked at the box and then at his boyfriend, putting one and one together, and his heart stopped beating for a moment.

No. This couldn’t be what the romantic part in him was hoping it might be. No. Certainly not. Not after just 18 months. It was probably something silly, like a joke, his favorite chocolate, or a gummy bear.

Still, his fingers trembled a little when he opened the box, and as his eyes caught sight of the missing puzzle piece, he gaped, taking in a surprised gasp. Jensen wanted to ask what this all meant but he didn’t say a word, only looked at the funny shaped piece of cardboard, while he slowly walked over to where the puzzle lay on the floor.

He took it out, gaping even more. Beneath the puzzle piece, there was a ring in tarnished platinum, its surface smooth and cold when Jensen brushed his index finger over it.

"Jay, I...," Jensen stuttered, completely lost for words that made sense.

Thankfully, his boyfriend released him from this suspense, stepping behind him, wrapping his long arms around Jensen’s torso, holding him tightly. "It’s a promise ring, Jen," Jared explained, his warm breath caressing Jensen’s cheek. "A promise from me to you, of friendship, of support and love, and everything else you wish for. It’s a promise that I’ll always be your missing piece, if you want me to be." He made a little expectant pause. "Do you want me to be, Jen?"

There was just one answer to that question, because no one else ever has completed Jensen as much as Jared, in all possible ways. "Yes," he breathed out with an unsteady voice, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand for stability.

Gently, Jared took the ring before deftly turning his boyfriend in his arms so that Jensen could see him smile while he slid the ring onto his finger. He did it very deliberately, looking him deep into his eyes, and Jensen was sure, never before had his heart beat like this, never before had the butterflies in his belly fluttered so excitedly as in this moment.

They sealed the promise with a kiss, soft and gentle and lazy, all tongue and lips, and sweet, cherishing moans, with fingers stroking and hands squeezing. Only when they ran short of oxygen did they let go of each other, twining their hands together instead, needing, wanting, this connection.

Jared tugged him towards the door but Jensen shook his head.

First, he wanted to finish his puzzle.

Smiling, the younger man understood.

Together, they knelt down and, with Jared’s hand curled around his right wrist, to be a part of it, Jensen put the missing piece into the puzzle.

He was complete.

They were complete.

With satisfaction, Jensen looked at their smiling faces, at the joy on their lips, and the love in their eyes.

He had finally found what he had been looking for and, as he realized it, currents of happiness flooded his body, gifting him with an all-consuming happiness and he knew, it would be forever.

**The End**


End file.
